Ruby Crown
by Wandergirl108
Summary: By chance, the BAU and Lisbon's team cross paths following separate cases. Six professional profilers and one mentalist is quite a powerful force…maybe enough to bring down the monster who has tormented Jane for years. But will Jane accept the help? Will the BAU suffer from repercussions for getting involved in this old struggle? And can Red John truly be defeated once and for all?
1. Foreword

**Welcome, my friends; I hope you enjoy what I have in store for you. Before we get to it, however, I want to give a more detailed forward, one more descriptive than the limited space in the summary section for this story would allow for.**

**As this story stands - both in terms of what has been and what is to come - it was a story I had planned out many years ago, before I even knew fanfiction was actually a thing. I told it to my mother, and only her, before watching the season 3 finale of The Mentalist, which I thought would render my story obsolete (even in my fantasies, I was always fiercely loyal to canon), and she liked it overall, though it took many, MANY days to tell. The changes that I needed to make to the first installment of the tale, which I titled "REaDy or Not, Here I Come" when I did finally publish it on FF, turned out to be minimal, and very little changed after that. ****I stopped watching The Mentalist after S4E9, when I learned that the next episode (S4E10) involved amnesia - I hate that plot device, no matter where I may come across it, and I didn't want to see my then-favorite show use it. Official canon ended for me then. I'm glad for that now, as I've seen ads for the upcoming OFFICIAL finale for the battle with Red John, and I am SO glad I'm writing my own ending - it will be both more pleasant and more epic than what the official canon will be, I can promise you that. ;D**

**As for Criminal Minds, I had been a fan of that show for a couple of years as well when I first planned out this story. When I went to college, my following of it suffered, as all my TV fandoms did, but I kept to it longer. I stopped watching after the Season 7 finale, when Izzy Rogers, the subject of all my Criminal Minds fanfics to date, made her appearance - I preferred my own stories of what happened after that, and I didn't want to see them rendered obsolete by official canon. So, that's where canon ends for Criminal Minds for me.**

**Lila Archer appeared in season 1 of Criminal Minds and never returned, but I always liked her, as well as the thought of Dr. Spencer Reid having a movie star girlfriend (I mean, come on, who doesn't love Reid?). I know Reid has had some further experience with dating at some point, I THINK after season 7, but I never wanted any knowledge of it because of my support for Rila, so that will NOT be canon for this story either way. ****As for Mentalist romances, well, I am a hundred and ten percent behind Jisbon, and RigsPelt is pretty much a given. Rigsby's parenthood began before official canon ended for me, but integrating it into my story would be far too complicated, so for all intents and purposes, don't think of that bit as canon; likewise, I do not count as canon Lisbon's one-night stand with Walter Mashbourne (Seriously, what the heck was up with that? She's not that sort of person…). I am a hopeless romantic, so you can all be sure of both Jisbon and RigsPelt blossoming over the course of my tale, don't you worry. Whether or not things will ever get adult in that department is…something I haven't made up my mind about yet. I guess you guys will find out when I do. XD**

**I have also hinted at a slightly supernatural angle on things, as opposed to The Mentalist's stubborn realism, in my stories. There IS a direction I could eventually take it as well - one that would mean a much, MUCH longer tale than otherwise; whether or not I do it will depend partly on the feedback I get from readers. Will you want to stick to the show's stubborn realism, or will things like real ghosts and true deities of good and evil appeal to you in the way I might want to write them? Time will tell, my friends, time will tell…and I look forward to finding out the answer.**

**Most of all, the story that follows this forward was born of the question of what would happen if the BAU met Patrick Jane. He operates so much like one of them, and really, he would be a perfect BAU agent, his dislike of official police and guns aside. But would they see that? Or would they see the troublemaker so many other law enforcers see him as? Also, Agent Hotchner knows what it is to have someone you love killed by a serial killer with a vendetta against you, and I figured he and Jane could probably bond over that, unalike as they may be. Besides all that, the RJ I've created, whom you all know is…a bit OP/OTT, could never be caught by just a simple stroke of luck, or even the most intensive search that Patrick Jane could conduct; but MAYBE, with the help of the BAU, as well as some insider details from Lisbon that she got from her three weeks as RJ's captive (and what interaction she has had with him since), he could be brought down.**

**But then, what happens if Jane fulfills his vow of murdering Red John with his own two hands? Most likely, he goes to jail, right? His life ends. And that just wouldn't do. Between that and some other ideas, I imagined an end to Red John that would truly befit both the monster I have made of him and the struggling and suffering Patrick Jane has been through in this war of good versus ultimate evil. It's long, epic, complicated, and will leave a lot to be resolved even after Red John falls…but those of you who have followed me this far, from REaDy or Not, Here I Come to Bleeding Hearts (the title of which I had to change slightly so as not to have a story share the exact same title as an actual episode) to here and now are probably thrilled to know that this will be a very long tale, and many struggles will be had and overcome, in order for EVERYONE to live happily ever after…**

**…or not. ;D**

**Thank you very much. Enjoy!**


	2. Prologue

Lisbon and Jane were headed for the home of a suspect in a murder case - pretty standard, for the most part, except that the two of them hadn't split from the rest of the team to do anything in over a year. The elephant in the room (or car) was enormous, and neither Jane nor Lisbon wanted to break the silence.

Naturally, it was Jane who finally spoke.

"Last time it was just the two of us doing anything, _I_ was able to tell _you_ what to do," he said.

"Yep," Lisbon said dryly. "I remember."

Jane looked over at her and smiled. "I'm glad that time has passed," he told her.

She glanced at him. "You don't miss being able to tell me what to do?" she asked, a bit surprised.

"Well, the only reason I was able to tell you what to do was because you were recovering from an unbearable trauma," he replied; "I'd much rather have you in charge and well than me in charge and you…_not_ well." He made a vague gesture.

"That's very sweet of you," Lisbon said. In truth, she was genuinely surprised that Jane had never taken advantage of being in charge of her, and even more surprised now to learn that he never would. It seemed unlike him, really, to be so considerate. _Or maybe not,_ she thought, considering the circumstances that had put her under his charge in the first place, as well as his tendency to do random acts of kindness for people, semi-legal though they might sometimes be.

She glanced at him again, thinking…He was a friend of the people, really - _all_ people, save those few who didn't deserve friends. Yet he made her life difficult so much of the time, despite her being his closest _actual_ friend…and for the first time, she wondered about that.

Finally she said, "Thank you for not taking advantage of me when I was…recovering."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," Jane said, waving the thanks aside, further piquing her curiosity.

"Really?" she asked. "You go behind my back all the time - why wouldn't you take advantage of being in charge for a change?"

Jane sighed heavily. "Lisbon, I…" He hesitated.

A minute passed awkwardly. "You…?" Lisbon finally pressed.

He took a breath. "I was only in charge because you weren't able to be," he said. "I go behind your back when you're in charge because you're strong enough to handle being responsible for me and dealing with the fallback from, you know, whatever legal boundaries I might have crossed to catch a killer; but at that time, you weren't." He looked at her, his expression serious. "I would _never_ take advantage of someone - _anyone_ - who's hurting or weakened or otherwise easily taken advantage of, _unless_ I need to in order for justice to be served," he told her.

"So you only cause problems when _I'd_ be the one to take the fall for it," Lisbon said, trying to restore normalcy and lighten the mood a little - she hated when any conversation made Jane get all serious like this.

"Well, yes," Jane admitted, "but only when you can handle it."

"Never thought I'd regret recovering from Red John's torture," she murmured loudly.

Instead of smiling, Jane looked concerned. "You do?" he asked worriedly.

She glanced at him. "I'm kidding!" she told him. "Relax!"

"Okay, okay," he said, throwing up his hands in surrender. "Just wanted to be sure."

She sighed. "Let's just focus on what we're doing now, what do you say?" she said.

"Sounds good to me," he replied.

There was another awkward silence. Then, Lisbon, feeling guilty about the secrets she kept from Jane now, said gently, "You'll get him."

Jane looked at her. "What?" he asked.

She glanced at him and smiled. "Red John," she said. "You'll get him someday. I know you will."

"Thanks," Jane said hesitantly, unsure where this was coming from. "I know I will, too."

And then they had arrived, and the time for talking had passed. Lisbon drove up and parked right beside the curb in front of the house. At the same time, a black SUV drove up directly opposite her and parked as well.

Lisbon stepped out, Jane close behind her. At the same time, from the black SUV, the driver - a dark-haired man in a suit - and the occupant of the passenger's seat - a slightly African-American man with a beard and mustache and a shaved head - got out.

Lisbon's eyes narrowed at the site of the newcomers, and she pulled out her badge and walked forward, addressing the man in the suit assertively. "Agent Lisbon, CB…" she began.

At exactly the same time, the man in the suit pulled out his own badge and walked toward Lisbon. "Agent Hotchner, FB…" he started to say.

"…I," they both finished slowly at the same time, as they stopped, two feet apart, their eyes wide as they stared at each other.

Jane looked from Lisbon to Hotchner, from Hotchner to Lisbon, then back to Hotchner, then back to Lisbon again. After a moment, a broad grin split his face.

"Oh, this should be good," he chuckled.


	3. Chapter 1

"Shut up, Jane," Lisbon said to Jane sharply. She turned back to Agent Hotchner and smiled politely. "Agent Hotchner, I'm Agent Lisbon, this is Patrick Jane, we're with the California Bureau of Investigation," she introduced formally; "we're investigating a murder, and the man who lives at this residence - Todd Pearson - is a suspect."

"We know," said Agent Hotchner's partner in an odd tone of voice. "That's why _we're_ here."

"You're investigating the murder of Cassie Fitzgerald?" Jane asked.

"Who?" Agent Hotchner's partner asked, confused.

"We're investigating the murder of a young woman named Cassandra Fitzgerald," Lisbon explained; "she went missing three days ago, then was found dead on the shore of Sacramento River early this morning. We believe Todd Pearson knew her well."

"We don't know anything about that," Agent Hotchner's partner said.

"Agent Lisbon, I'm Special Supervisory Agent Aaron Hotchner, this is Special Agent Derek Morgan," Agent Hotchner said, reciprocating the formalities; "we're investigating a series of murders that have taken place in the area over the past two weeks, and the man who lives here has ties to several of the victims."

"A _series_ of murders?" Lisbon repeated.

"Yes, ma'am," Agent Morgan said; "our job is to catch serial killers."

Lisbon's eyes widened, and this did not escape Jane's notice.

"_No_, Lisbon," he said firmly.

Lisbon glanced at him, then quickly smiled at the two federal agents. "Will you gentlemen excuse us for a moment?" she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she retreated a few steps, then turned to face Jane.

"Lisbon, I know you might be tempted, but Red John is going to stay out of this," Jane said in a low voice.

"If they could help us-" Lisbon began.

"Red John is mine," Jane said firmly; "you of all people should understand that."

"I understand that Red John is too powerful to be brought down by the CBI," Lisbon argued. "We need all the help we can get-"

"You said you knew I'd catch him someday just a few minutes ago," Jane said; "are you telling me you didn't mean it?"

Lisbon blinked. "No," she said, "but it can't hurt-"

"Let's just focus on what we're doing right now," Jane said, "what do you say?"

Lisbon recognized her words from just minutes before, and she knew Jane wouldn't be swayed in his determination when it came to this matter.

"Is everything okay?" Agent Morgan called.

Lisbon gave Jane a quick glare that she knew he knew meant "I don't like it, but you're right, so okay" and quickly walked back over to the agents she had left. "Yes, everything's fine, I apologize," she said, smiling politely again.

"I'm curious," Jane said before anyone else could speak, walking up from behind Lisbon: "What are the odds that these two different cases we're investigating are related?"

"Well, we'd have to take a look at your case before we could determine that," Agent Hotchner replied. "From what we know now, it could just as easily be coincidence."

"Hmm," Jane mused. "So, either Todd Pearson here," he gestured at the house the two teams had parked in front of, "is involved in one of the two cases, he's involved in both cases, or he's involved in neither case and just happens to be in the wrong places at the wrong times."

"In short, yes," Agent Hotchner agreed.

"But in order to figure out which of those is the case, we'd need to collaborate our investigations and examine both cases together," Agent Morgan added.

"Well," Jane said, "in that case, I would suggest we do that _before_ any of us actually talk to Todd Pearson - that way, we might better know how to approach him."

"Jane-" Lisbon began disapprovingly.

"That makes sense," Agent Hotchner said at the same time.

Lisbon blinked.

"What was your name again?" Agent Hotchner asked Jane. "Agent…?"

"Oh, not 'agent'," Jane said, smiling; "I'm Patrick Jane, I'm just a consultant."

"Mr. Jane," Agent Hotchner said, nodding; "collaborating would probably be a good idea…I'll have our boss call your boss."

"Uh, Lisbon here is _my_ boss," Jane said, gesturing to Lisbon; "but I'm sure _her_ boss would love to talk to yours."

"Alright," Agent Hotchner said. He turned to Lisbon. "We'll meet with your team in CBI Headquarters, does that sound good?"

"Uh, yes," Lisbon said, rather taken aback by how quickly things were happening (not to mention without her direction).

Hotch nodded at Jane. "We'll see you there," he said, and he and Agent Morgan got back in their SUV. Agent Morgan had already dialed a number on his cell phone. "Garcia," he said, but he was in the SUV and riding away before Jane or Lisbon could hear any more.

Lisbon stood where she was, stunned. Jane was already getting back in the car.

"Lisbon!" he called. "Let's go!"

Lisbon gave herself a little shake. "Right," she said, and she got back in the car with Jane.

On the way back to CBI HQ, Lisbon called Bertram to tell him what was going on. When she was done, she quickly gave Jane a very stern look.

"What?" he asked defensively before she could say anything.

"You know what I'm going to say," Lisbon said; "don't screw around with the feds. I would appreciate it if you could at least _try_ not to make the CBI look bad while we're working with them."

"Meh, I'll think about it," Jane said noncommittally, more to get on Lisbon's nerves than out of true nonchalance.

Lisbon sighed, but she had nothing more to say. Please_ let this go smoothly,_ she prayed silently…

o~X~o

Hotch quickly called Rossi, then Chief Strauss, to let them know what had happened; Morgan called Garcia to let her know about the development, too. In short order, the BAU and their boss learned about the CBI case, and maneuvers were made to bring the two teams together. Garcia flew over from Quantico so that the CBI team would be able to get her help without having to go through BAU team members. This took a couple of hours, naturally, and the rest of the BAU reviewed what they had in the meantime before going over to CBI HQ.

"Our unsub _does_ take young women, like Cassie Fitzgerald," Morgan said.

"But he doesn't keep them for more than a few hours before he strangles them," Hotch said.

"Well, maybe Cassie fought back," Rossi suggested. "He tries to abduct her somewhere along the riverside, she's more cautious than most, he becomes more forceful, things get out of hand, and she ends up in the river."

"Maybe," JJ said, "but we don't know whether Cassie drowned or was strangled, or died by some other means. We also don't know if she died more than a few hours after she first disappeared."

"We'll need to address that first, make sure she _was_ actually murdered," Hotch said in agreement.

"Well, what are the odds of a man with ties to several victims of a series of murders also having ties to a young woman who died by accident?" Rossi asked.

"It may seem unlikely, but the odds are better than you might expect," Reid said; "the CBI is obligated to look into any suspicious death, even if there's no immediate proof of murder, if only to eliminate the possibility; based on what it sounds like the agents told Morgan and Hotch, they haven't eliminated that quite yet, and the odds of any given person having connections to any given dead person who lived in the same area aren't very low - Todd Pearson might just be an unfortunate victim of chance."

"In any case, we'll need the coroner's report on Cassie Fitzgerald before we draw any conclusions, including victimology," Hotch said.

The others agreed.

o~X~o

The CBI team was very nervous as they waited for the FBI team to join them - Lisbon, in particular, couldn't sit still, and was pacing by Jane's desk.

"Lisbon, will you relax?" Jane said exasperatedly from his place on his couch.

She looked at him. "These aren't just ordinary FBI agents," she said; "they're _Special_ Agents - they're of a much higher level than anyone we've ever dealt with!"

"By which you mean they're bigger deals than anyone you've ever met before," Jane said. "Lisbon, _relax_! They're cops, just like you, and I'm sure your highly professional attitude will win them over without any trouble at all."

"Ha, ha," Lisbon muttered sarcastically.

Jane rolled his eyes.

Van Pelt was chewing her lip nervously. Abruptly, she said, "And we're sure these people really _are_ Federal Agents? I mean…" She trailed off equally abruptly, remembering, as everyone else was, the last time they had worked with someone they had thought was a Federal Agent.

"Bertram spoke with their boss, Chief Strauss," Lisbon said; "they're exactly who they say they are, and they're a big deal." She looked at everyone and said firmly, "Under no circumstances are we to treat them with anything but deference and respect."

"Oh come on, Lisbon, they can't be _that_ big a deal," Jane scoffed.

"Based on the way Bertram talked about them, I'd say they're a pretty big deal," Lisbon said, "and I don't want anyone to embarrass themselves in front of them."

"Because you're afraid we'll make _you_ look bad?" Jane asked. "Come on, Lisbon, if they really are that white-collar, they'll recognize you for the exemplary agent you are and respect you."

"Jane, _please_," Lisbon half-begged, half-demanded. "You're the one I'm most worried about!"

"Lisbon, you worry too much," Jane told her.

Lisbon closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she opened her eyes again, looked at Jane, and said very sternly, "I am asking you to show the serious, professional side you showed while I was recovering from what Red John did to me. If you do not - if you start goofing off in front of one of the FBI's top teams - I will ask you to go home and not come back until you can be serious. Is that clear?"

"What do you mean, 'go home'?" Jane asked.

"You know exactly what I mean," Lisbon said.

Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt had no clue what she was talking about, but Jane understood - the smiley face that had been drawn over his bed in his wife's blood so many years ago, which he still kept, stood as a constant reminder of everything in his life that wasn't fun and games, everything that was dark and painful and very, very serious; if he needed to be more serious, he needed to look at it for a few minutes. That was Lisbon's idea, and Jane couldn't say she was wrong.

And then the federal team came in.

Introductions were made all around - Lisbon, Rigsby, Cho, Van Pelt, and Jane gave their names and positions (when relevant), and the FBI agents introduced themselves: There was Special Supervisory Agent Aaron Hotchner and Special Agent Derek Morgan, of course; Special Supervisory Agent David Rossi, a middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard and mustache and rather piercing eyes; Doctor Spencer Reid, a very young-looking man with a boyish face and longish brown hair; a pretty blond woman, Special Agent Jennifer Jeroe, who answered to "JJ"; and the technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, a bespectacled, rather plump woman with curly hair and an almost childlike dress sense.

"So, uh, what kind of special agents are you?" Van Pelt asked, a bit nervously, as Garcia set up her computers on Jane's desk, per his offer. "I mean…"

"We're the Behavioral Analysis Unit," Agent Hotchner told Van Pelt; "we catch serial killers by profiling them, psychoanalyzing them based on their victims and patterns of behavior to try to get a better idea of who they are, what their next move might be, and how we can catch them."

"Oh," Van Pelt said with a slight, nervous smile. "That's…um…interesting…"

Jane, on the other hand, had turned around, and was staring at Agent Hotchner with wide eyes. "_You're_ the BAU?" he exclaimed.

"You've heard of them?" Lisbon asked, surprised.

"You haven't?" Jane asked, equally surprised at her. "Lisbon, these people are the best at what they do, they catch dozens of serial killers every year! Even _I_ respect them!"

"Jane…" Lisbon said warningly.

"It's unusual for someone to have heard of us ahead of time, especially someone not officially working with law enforcement," Agent Hotchner said thoughtfully; "how do you know us?"

"Oh, I look up serial killers in my spare time sometimes," Jane said as though talking about the weather; "you guys come up in relation to maybe a third of the stories I find. It's really very impressive." He grinned. "I never thought I'd have the honor of meeting you in person, though," he said.

"Jane," Lisbon said again, more sternly.

"What?" he asked defensively. "Lisbon, I'm serious-"

"Jane, go home," Lisbon ordered.

"Oh, come on, Lisbon-"

"Go home, _now_," Lisbon commanded sternly, glaring at him.

He looked at her for a moment, then sighed and walked out of the room without further protest.

The BAU watched him go.

"What does 'go home' mean?" Reid asked Lisbon.

"Oh, nothing," she said quickly; "just, go home. Don't mind him, he's not really part of the CBI."

Reid's brow furrowed, as though he was perplexed about something. Noticing this, Lisbon asked, "Is something the matter?"

"Well, it's just that, for most people, home is a sanctuary - a place of relaxation and comfort," Reid said; "the way you commanded Mr. Jane to go home, and the way he protested, suggests that in his case the opposite is true…which is interesting."

Rigsby, Cho, Van Pelt, and Lisbon stared at Reid, wide-eyed and, in the case of Van Pelt, slack-jawed. He sounded just like Jane! Not taking her eyes off Reid or changing her expression, Lisbon reached into her pocket and quickly called Jane on speed dial on her cell phone.

"Jane?" she said faintly into the phone. "You're off the hook. Get back in here." She hung up.

Jane stepped around the corner less than a moment later, smiling.

Lisbon looked at him. "You weren't really going, were you?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I figured I'd give it a few minutes at least," he said. He turned to the BAU. "Don't mind her, she gets very nervous in the presence of high-level professionals such as yourselves," he told them. "She's an exemplary agent, just…a bit of a stick in the mud sometimes."

"Jane!" Lisbon exclaimed.

But Agent Morgan chuckled. "Sounds like our Hotch," he commented.

Agent Hotchner's permanently serious expression lightened just enough to imply that he might smile a little if he wasn't so focused on his duties.

"I'm curious, Mr. Jane," he said as Jane sat back down on his couch. "You say you're a consultant for the CBI; what exactly is it that you do?"

"Uh…" Jane thought for a minute, tapping the side of his couch with his hand. At last, he looked at Lisbon. "Lisbon, may I-?"

"_No_," she said firmly.

"Oh come on, _please_?" Jane pleaded. "It would really be a lot easier to show them than tell them-"

"_No_, Jane," Lisbon said, glaring at him.

"What is it he's asking to do?" Agent Morgan asked.

"Let him do it, whatever it is," Rossi said; "I'm sure a demonstration would be more explanatory than an explanation."

Lisbon looked at the BAU, then back at Jane, her reluctance to let Jane do his thing in front of the high-level FBI agents warring with her drive to respect the wishes of the high-level FBI agents.

"…Fine," she finally relented, rolling her eyes. "_One_. Make it quick."

"Oh, where would the fun in that be?" Jane asked, standing up. He looked at each individual member of the BAU, shifting his attention between them, for a minute.

"Jane," Lisbon said pointedly.

"I'm sorry, I can't make up my mind, they're all so interesting!" Jane said defensively.

"Well pick one and get it over with," Lisbon ordered him.

"Okay…" he said under his breath. He focused his attention on Reid. "You," he said. "Spencer, right? Stand up, please."

"Me?" Reid asked, surprised.

"Please," Jane said, nodding.

Reid glanced at his team nervously.

"No need to be nervous," Jane said, "I won't even touch you. I just need you to stand up, and look me in the eye."

Nervously, Reid stood. Jane stepped closer and met his gaze intensely. There was silence for a minute; some of the people watching actually held their breath.

"What's your last name?" Jane finally asked.

"Uh, Reid," Reid said confusedly.

"Spell it," Jane said.

"R-e-i-d," Reid said without hesitation.

"Huh," Jane said, smiling. "Interesting."

"What's so interesting about that?" Reid asked, confused.

"Well, nothing, really," Jane said, "it's just that you didn't hesitate before answering me, not even for a moment. You see, there's a game that most young children play, have for generations - you ask a person what their name is, then say 'Spell it'; naturally assuming that by 'it' you mean the person's name, they'll start to do so, until you tell them, 'no, spell it', and this goes on and on, because the correct answer, no matter what the person's name is, is 'i-t' - spell '_it_'. Virtually everyone experiences that trick at least once during childhood, but the fact that you didn't hesitate suggests that you never did, which confirms what I already suspected about you: you had no childhood."

"And he's off," Lisbon muttered as Jane started talking more quickly.

"You were a boy genius, a child prodigy," he said to Reid; "you skipped several grades, graduating…before you were even a teenager? Yes, just barely - you were twelve years old when you graduated high school. You have an eidetic memory and an extremely high IQ, and you absorb information like a sponge absorbs water. Unfortunately, and as usually follows such things, you're very socially awkward, especially around girls, and you suffered from a great deal of bullying throughout school due to your young age.

"You grew up in Las Vegas, that's obvious. Your father didn't appreciate your brain; he wanted a _son_, a _boy_, a kid who would play sports and make friends rather than read books. Your mother was supportive of you and nurtured your gifts as well as she could, but she…wasn't quite well…yes, she suffered from a mental illness - schizophrenia, in fact. Your father left your life entirely when you were very young, and your mother, though she did her best, only noticed your existence about half the time due to her ailment, so you had no help, no one you could truly count on, for several years during your childhood - I'm very sorry, that's a terrible situation to be in, especially as a kid. In any case, you made it through, and as soon as you were old enough, you had your mother locked in a mental institution - a decision you still have mixed feelings, some of which being guilt, about."

"How did you-?" Reid exclaimed.

"I'm not done," Jane said. "Because you're so intelligent and knowledgeable, you know that schizophrenia can be passed on genetically, and secretly, your deepest fear is that you will suffer from the same problems as your mother; you also secretly wonder if you had your mother locked away for her own good or because you didn't want to be reminded of that fear every day. You love statistics, they're your specialty, and the main reason you take such comfort in statistics is because you also know that, statistically, each day that passes by that you _don't_ suffer from schizophrenia makes it less likely that you ever will."

"How did you-?!" Reid exclaimed, even more shocked.

"I'm not done. Another scar you carry from your childhood involved a…murder? Yes…yes, the murder of another child. You suppressed the memory, but it subconsciously pushed you into law enforcement, which is how you ended up in the BAU. Eventually, the memory resurfaced, and as a Federal Agent you actually managed to solve the whole mystery and close the case - you're very lucky, very rarely do people with that kind of history manage to get closure like that.

"On the other hand, the BAU is the first place you've ever felt at home - your teammates respect your intelligence and cleverness, and though they do poke fun at you at times for your age, it's all in good fun between friends, the first true friends you've ever had, especially Agent Morgan over there. You…also found a parent figure on the team, a father figure, a man who understood and respected you and for whom you had nothing but respect yourself, especially…in chess - you and he used to play, and despite everything, you never beat him. He isn't in the BAU anymore, though…yes, he left several years ago - vanished, you have no idea where he is now. The teammates here are still like close family to you, though, the only family you've ever really had, which is why you'll most likely never leave the BAU before you retire or possibly die, despite the many unpleasant experiences you've had doing this job - you've been injured several times, even targeted by someone you were chasing, and more than once at that…You've actually died doing this job - yes, you died, then were resuscitated before any brain damage happened…_by_ the person who killed you? Wow. You've really been through it…and that's not even the craziest or scariest situation you've ever been in! _Wow_.

"Also, there's someone in this state you want to see, someone you haven't seen or spoken to in a very long time…Not your mother, she's in Nevada, but…an ex-girlfriend, maybe? No no, _would-be_ girlfriend, if your job didn't take up all of your time."

"Can you guess her name?" Agent Morgan spoke up.

"Excuse me?" Jane asked, surprised from his monologue and turning to him.

Morgan smirked and reached into his pocket. "I will give you…" he said, taking out his wallet, opening it, and taking out a bill, "…twenty dollars, right now, if you can guess her name."

_Ooh,_ Lisbon thought but didn't say; _the ultimate challenge. God, I hope Jane can't do it…_

"Okay," Jane said slowly. He turned back to Reid. "Spencer, do me a favor," he told him: "Look me directly in the eye, and think of her name."

Reid blinked but obliged.

"It's okay…" Jane said softly. "Don't shout…I can hear you…" He looked into Reid's eyes deeply, intently, searching with such intensity that even some of the onlookers caught their breath.

Finally, Jane spoke.

"Whatever it is, it makes you think of a flower," he said.

Morgan smirked, clearly thinking Jane was way off.

"It's not the _name_ of a flower, but it makes you _think_ of one," Jane went on. "Something like…lily - no, lilac…Aha!" He snapped his fingers and grinned. "Lila," he declared, pointing at Reid for emphasis.

"Oh, pay up!" JJ cried to Morgan, grinning. "Pay up!"

"Last name too, double or nothing," Morgan said, unruffled.

"Okay," Jane said, turning back to Reid; "Spencer, again, same thing: Look me in the eye and think of her last name."

"And no thinking out loud this time," Morgan added.

Jane glanced at him, then turned back to Reid and resumed his piercing stare.

"You think her last name suits her better than her first…" Jane began after a moment.

"Hey hey hey, no thinking out loud!" Morgan repeated.

"Sorry," Jane said, contrite.

Minutes passed; even Reid started to shift uncomfortably under Jane's gaze.

"Alright," Morgan finally said, "I'm going to count down from ten-"

"Don't count down from ten," Jane said sharply, pointing a finger at Morgan without shifting his head or gaze even slightly.

"Why not?" Morgan demanded.

"Doesn't matter," Jane said, still sharply, still pointing. "Count _to_ ten, count down _from_ any _other_ number, count _to_ any other number, but don't count down from ten."

"Uh, okay," Morgan said, "I'm going to count down from _three_. Okay?"

"Uh-huh," Jane said, dropping his hand, still looking intently into Reid's eyes.

"And when I say 'zero', you guess the name," Morgan said.

Jane said nothing.

"Three," Morgan said. "Two. One. _Zero_."

"Uh…" Jane said noncommittally.

"Hey! Guess the name!" Morgan pressed.

Jane turned his head sideways, not shifting his gaze. "I'm going to go out on a limb here," he said: "…Archer?"

"Oh, _pay up_!" JJ exclaimed again, joined this time by Garcia, and even Hotch raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"How did you do that?" Morgan asked, baffled.

Jane smiled and shrugged as he took Morgan's money. "Well, I could tell that, to Spencer at least, her last name suited her a lot better than her first name," he said; "that is, something implying strength, unlike something reminiscent of a flower." He turned back to Reid. "Also, the more you thought about it, the more I noticed you thought of something admirable, fantastical even, like an ancient Greek goddess…I'm guessing, Artemis."

Reid blinked. "Yeah…" he said slowly.

Jane smiled. "Archery, the noble sport," he said; "quite possibly the first symbol of female strength. You must think very highly of her," he commented.

"Wait a minute," Rigsby said suddenly.

Everyone turned to him, surprised.

"Your girlfriend is _Lila Archer_?" he asked Reid, his eyebrows raised, as though he knew the name and was very surprised to hear that an agent could be dating her.

"Uh, she's not my girlfriend…" Reid said awkwardly. "I haven't even spoken to her in nine years, she probably…doesn't even remember me…"

"You know her?" Lisbon asked.

"Yeah, _of_ her," Rigsby said; "she's a big up-and-coming movie star in Hollywood. She caught a big break nine years ago, got a lot of publicity when she was at the center of some big stalker thing…" He trailed off, realizing what he was saying.

"And that's how you met her," Jane said, smiling at Reid. "No, wait," he said quickly, correcting himself before Reid could do it for him, "you met her _before_ she had any known connection to the stalker thing by pure chance, then found out _later_ that she was being stalked…at about the same time she did."

Reid smiled awkwardly. "I met her at a, uh, an art show, a guy I graduated from high school with invited me and I was in the area because we were teaching the local police force about profiling," he said. "He introduced me to her…_as_ a movie star…"

"Which made you feel especially pressured, when you're already socially awkward," Jane picked up, "besides which I'm sure she's very pretty. Naturally, you used your defense mechanism of hiding behind your intellect, using big words, talking about technical things most people don't really care about…You expected her to just mark you off as a dork and walk away - as most women, even of lower social circles, normally would - but she…she stuck with you, tried to follow what you were talking about, maybe even…made a joke about it? Yes." Jane smiled. "It's impressive that someone who had so much going for her wasn't just a shallow snob - it's nice to know that there are such people," he commented.

"Uh, yeah," Reid said, smiling embarrassedly.

Jane smiled back. "And that's why you started actually _liking_ her, as opposed to just being intimidated by her looks and social status," he said. "She…later told you that _she_ liked _you_ because…people in Hollywood are…manipulative - always looking out for themselves, thinking of their own gain, generally lying to that end; but you, well, you couldn't pretend to be someone you're not even if you tried - in fact, you'd probably do a worse job at it if you _did_ try."

Some of the BAU team chuckled; Reid blushed and stammered incoherently.

"So when the stalker thing, whatever it was, happened, and she was in trouble, she was, I'm sure, very glad to have a familiar, trustworthy face part of the team trying to protect her," Jane went on. "And…you, in particular, were assigned to protect her personally." He grinned. "I'm sure you were more than happy to take on that responsibility."

"Uh, well, actually…" Reid said.

"Oh," Jane said, "no; something bad happened and you were ordered not to tell her…someone close to her died - was killed by the stalker."

"Her manager," Reid mumbled.

"She was mad when she found out, I'm sure," Jane said, "maybe even…excessively so, because she thought she could trust you, unlike most people she crossed paths with."

"Yeah…" Reid mumbled.

Jane smiled. "But I'm sure she forgave you when you saved her life."

Reid looked up again, his eyes wide.

"Yep," Jane said, "_you_ took out the stalker, saved her life, all by yourself."

"Not all by myself…" he said embarrassedly.

"No, don't sell yourself short," Jane said, "you were there by yourself, the stalker had a gun aimed at Lila, and you saved her before any backup could arrive, all on your own."

Reid stammered.

"Did you kiss her?" Jane asked.

Reid's face flushed, his lips clamped shut, and his eyes bugged like a deer in the headlights.

Jane grinned. "Oh, you _did_," he said gleefully.

"She - I - I was…supposed to protect her!" Reid said protestingly.

"So you kept her close," Jane teased.

Reid gave a laugh in spite of himself. "That's what she said, actually," he said. Then, realizing what he was saying, he quickly, awkwardly added, "Er, _she_ kissed _me_."

"You kissed her back," Jane said.

"Uh…" Reid glanced at his superiors nervously.

"Reid," Hotchner said.

Reid looked at him nervously.

Amazingly, Hotchner gave another almost-half-smile. "It's okay," he said reassuringly.

Reid nodded, half-timidly.

"But you haven't spoken to her since you left her at the close of the case," Jane said. "You were afraid - you're _still_ afraid - that she'd move on, forget about the nerd who was only in her life for a few days, and besides, your overall awkwardness makes initiating any form of contact difficult. You half-hoped to hear _her_ call _you_ for a while, but that hope faded fast when she didn't." He tilted his head. "For what it's worth, I think it's pretty safe to assume she remembers you," he told Reid. "When you save someone's life, that's not…something they're likely to forget."

"I…uh…" Reid stammered into silence.

Jane looked at him for a little bit longer, then said, "Alright, I think that's it. You can sit down now, Spencer, thank you for being such a good sport."

Reid backed up, looking as though he was in a daze, and sat back down. Jane grinned at the whole BAU.

"And _that_," he said, sitting down on his couch again, "is what I do for the CBI."

"So, what, you're psychic?" JJ asked.

Jane laughed. "No, of course not," he said, "there's no such thing as psychics; I just pay attention. I used to make a living as a psychic, but I was a fraud, as all psychics are."

"You knew my life story just by looking in my eyes," Reid said, his tone suggesting shock.

Jane smiled. "You know, they say the eyes are the windows to the soul," he said. He shrugged. "I don't know about that, but there _is_ a lot to see in a person's eyes. I must confess, though, half of what I said, I guessed based on the reactions you gave me - not just your eyes, but your overall expression and posture as well."

"So, you could, like, tell what any of us is thinking, just by looking at us?" Garcia asked.

Jane smiled. "Well, it's not just looking, it's paying attention to what there is to see," he said, "but…more or less."

"Can you tell what I'm thinking right now?" Garcia asked coyly.

Jane chuckled. "Right now, you're thinking 'Oh god, why did I ask him that, if he really can tell what I'm thinking I might die of embarrassment,'" he said without hesitation. "And yes, I do know what you were thinking before that, but for the sake of your dignity, I think I'll keep it to myself. I will say this, though: Remember that you do have a boyfriend back home."

Garcia blushed and ducked behind her computers; some of her teammates, especially Morgan, chuckled.

"You may not be psychic, but I think there might be a word for what you _are_," Reid said: "a mentalist."

"A what?" Rigsby asked.

"Mentalist: A person who uses mental acuity, hypnosis, and/or suggestion," Reid recited; "also, a master manipulator of thoughts and behavior."

"That's Jane," Cho said.

"To a T," Lisbon added dryly.

Jane, meanwhile, gave a tremendous grin. "So there's a word for me!" he said delightedly. His smile faltered, and he amended, "Well, that's kind of bittersweet - I mean, on the one hand, there's a word for me, and on the other hand…well…there's a word for me."

"What's bad about that?" Rigsby asked, confused.

"It means there have been enough people like that for a word for it to exist," Lisbon said, her tone still very dry. She looked at Jane. "You done now?"

"Yes, I'm done," Jane said, and he gestured to the BAU with a flourish. "They're all yours, Lisbon."

"Actually, I have one more question," Hotchner said.

Lisbon tried not to cringe visibly.

"Psychics make a lot more money than police force consultants," Hotchner said; "why did you change careers?"

Lisbon couldn't completely suppress a gasp. She had been expecting something about Jane's unprofessionalism; this was something else entirely. Likewise, Jane's face fell, and Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt glanced at each other.

There was silence for a minute.

"There's a…long story, behind that," Jane said at last, forcing himself to crack another smile. "We should probably focus on catching killers right now…maybe I'll tell you after."

Lisbon's eyes widened, and she looked at Jane questioningly. He didn't acknowledge her, instead diving right into the murder cases, taking her and the rest of the team - _and_ the BAU - with him.


	4. Chapter 2

Cassandra Fitzgerald _had_ been murdered, that was determined very quickly - C.o.D. was drowning, but following a stab to the back of the head. Because of this, it also quickly became clear that whoever the BAU was looking for _probably_ wasn't responsible for her death, though there was always the possibility that Cassie had been different because her relationship to the unsub had been more personal or unusual in some other way.

And Todd Pearson? His connections to the victims were no stronger one way than another. In fact, as it turned out, they were the exact _same_ connection: He was a history teacher at a local community college, and many of the victims of the BAU's case - as well as Cassie - had taken his class.

The teams exchanged evidence, giving very little to the BAU, but a great deal to the CBI - a preliminary profile, even, far more than the CBI usually went into the field with, minimal though it was.

Of all the members of the CBI, it was Patrick Jane who worked well with the BAU, following the same lines of logic they did and seeing similar angles on what there was to look at. Lisbon, despite her professionalism, several times found herself protesting what seemed to her to be an unreasonable leap of logic on Jane's part, only for Hotch or another member of the BAU to back him up. After several of these, she felt obligated to protest, "We should focus on the facts, not count on guesswork!"

"Ma'am, criminal profiling is far from guesswork," Hotch told her; "while it may not be an exact science, even preliminary profiles can provide a great deal of insight into who we're looking for. If we turn out to be wrong in some regard, we will adjust the profile accordingly."

Lisbon blushed, and was silent after that.

Though he was more similar in his methods to the BAU than anyone in the CBI, Jane was also very different, and he was able to provide some perspectives on the BAU case that none of the Federal Agents would have thought of, and which were quite helpful. After several hours of sharing evidence, Lisbon felt very overstepped, and Jane seemed to be the one leading the team, as well as the only one with helpful insight on the federal case.

When the time came to finally go out and talk to Todd Pearson, as well as other potential suspects, Lisbon insisted that Jane stay behind; she didn't say it directly, but while Jane working well with the BAU in the office was all fine and good - even a stroke of incredibly good luck - she didn't trust them to take his behavior in the field with the same stride. Jane didn't protest, saying he was tired anyway from hours of talking and wanted to rest on his couch. This did cause some raised eyebrows among the BAU, but there was no fallout for it, and Lisbon and Hotch went to talk to Todd Pearson together, other members of the teams pursuing people of interest in their respective cases.

Finally, Jane on his couch and Garcia at her computers were the only ones not out chasing bad guys. Jane _was_ tired, but more than that, he needed some time to think, and not just about the cases. Crossing paths with the BAU was an interesting development he had never expected…and while Red John _was_ his, and his alone, he couldn't deny that if anyone could help him, it was the BAU. If he could just get them to _understand_ that Red John was his…

"Hey, Patrick?"

Jane was startled out of his reverie before he even really got started by Garcia's voice. He raised his head. "Yes, Penny?" he asked.

She smiled. "What's going on with you and Agent Lisbon?" she asked; apparently, she had nothing to do at that moment, and felt the need to gossip.

Jane managed not to roll his eyes, instead smiling and countering, "What's going on with you and Agent Morgan?"

She laughed, then became interested in something on one of her monitors and started typing at remarkable speed. Jane had a feeling she wasn't done, though, and sure enough, several minutes later - perhaps while she was waiting for something to load or something - she looked at him again and said teasingly, "I may not be a professional profiler myself, but I know you didn't answer my question."

Jane suppressed a sigh. "Lisbon and I are very good friends," he said. "I know I can trust her, and…I _hope_ she knows she can trust me, with most things, at least - maybe not her career…We've saved each other's lives a couple of times…She tries to keep me from doing anything stupid and ending up in jail or worse, I try to do what I have to to catch killers even if it might get her in trouble, we end up splitting the difference most of the time, but I close cases, and in her words, most days, that's enough."

"And the days when it's not?" Garcia asked.

"She never did say," Jane said. He did sigh then, and he said, "She understands me, and I understand her…and we respect each other's virtues and tolerate each other's faults. My faults are a lot more numerous than hers, but she's…she's very tolerant, all things considered. She's a good friend, I'm very fortunate to have her as my boss, and I try to be a good friend to her in return, when I can."

"That wasn't what I was asking," Garcia said.

"I know," Jane said, "but I was answering your question honestly."

"And there's nothing else going on?" Garcia asked.

Jane chuckled in spite of himself, then held up his left hand to show off the easiest way to end this conversation, his smile fading. "In case you haven't noticed, Penny, I'm married," he said.

"Not to her?"

"Not to her," he confirmed, unwilling to say more just then.

But Garcia wasn't done. "And you would never, ever cheat on your wife, is that it?"

"Of course I wouldn't," he said, hoping she would just drop it.

"Huh," Garcia said, and she returned her attention to her computers. After a moment, she said, "Your wife is a very lucky lady, then."

"No she's not," Jane said, a bitter taste in his mouth; "trust me."

He was extremely grateful when Garcia said nothing more and he was left to his thoughts. Still, he couldn't keep thoughts of his wife out of the things he was puzzling over. She would have wanted him to swallow his pride, forget his vendetta, and ask for help - he knew that without any doubt. But…But…

_But Red John is mine,_ he thought, and there was nothing else to it, really - Red John himself had even signed his letters to Jane, "Forever yours". _He_ wouldn't want Jane to ask for the BAU's help - he'd much rather Jane keep it between the two of them. There had been a time when Jane would have felt the same way, too…but after rescuing Lisbon from Red John's clutches, saving her life without seconds to spare…after helping her through her trauma, seeing just exactly what Red John could do to a person, even a person as strong as her…Red John needed to be stopped, there was no denying that, and the sooner the better.

Unable to make up his mind, Jane turned his thoughts to the two murder investigations currently at hand. There, he started to put some things together, make some progress, though he would need to hear from Lisbon and Hotch to confirm some of his suspicions. But even as he thought about the cases, he unconsciously fiddled with his wedding ring, his mission in life set aside, but far from forgotten, as he fell into a doze.

~o~

Hotch and Lisbon did indeed confirm Jane's suspicions, and he told them that, as unlikely as it seemed, Todd Pearson probably wasn't responsible for either murder case. Lisbon stubbornly tried to hold onto her suspicion of him until the evidence ruled him out, but Hotch, upon hearing Jane's reasoning, agreed with him.

The cases proceeded. With the help of the BAU, Jane didn't even have to pull any semi-legal stunts to catch Cassie's killer - between their profiling and Lisbon's team's own skills, they had their man before nightfall. As Jane had predicted, it was _not_ Todd Pearson.

The BAU's case, naturally, took a bit longer; because of the Todd Pearson connection, the CBI was still technically obligated to assist the BAU in their case until it had been closed, despite their end being wrapped up. Lisbon's job was reduced to pretty much nothing as Jane and the BAU, with Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt as their errand runners, swept through the case. Jane repeatedly demonstrated his abilities as a "mentalist" - a "master manipulator of thoughts and behavior" many times over - and the members of the BAU, rather than being exasperated like most law enforcers, were extremely impressed with his abilities. With his help, they created a finalized profile of the serial killer they were looking for and, a day later, arrested their man - again, _not_ Todd Pearson.

It had been pure chance that Lisbon's team and the BAU had crossed paths…almost as though it had been destined.

With the cases closed, the two teams shook hands, exchanged pleasantries and formalities, and Jane offered to show the BAU out. In truth, he wanted to be alone with them for a bit - he had made up his mind, and the time had come.


	5. Chapter 3

Jane waited patiently for one of the Federal Agents to bring up the subject - he knew they would. Sure enough, they were halfway to the elevators when Hotch stopped, suddenly remembering, and turned to Jane.

"Mr. Jane, you never did tell us why you decided to join the CBI," he said.

Though he had been expecting this, Jane felt his chest constrict. Still, he knew, now, that the BAU team was a group of people he could trust.

"Yes," he said; "again, there's a…very long story behind that, I don't know if you have the time…"

"We can leave anytime," JJ said; "our jet can wait."

"_Your_ jet," Jane repeated, smiling. His smile faded quickly, and he looked at the six people whose attention he commanded, one at a time, meeting their eyes.

At last he said, "Okay, I'll tell you." He looked at Garcia. "Penny, you remember how you said my wife was a lucky lady, and I told you she wasn't?" he asked.

"Yeah," Garcia said, suddenly slightly afraid to hear whatever followed from this.

Jane closed his eyes and nodded sadly; unconsciously, he reached for his left ring finger with his right hand and started fiddling with his wedding ring. He took a breath, then opened his eyes again and looked at the BAU.

"I…was born to a carney family," he told them; "I never knew my mother, but my father…well, he was all I had, really, and he was a carney, so I was, too - I didn't have a choice. My father used to…say I had x-ray eyes." He smiled humorlessly. "I became my own attraction at a young age - 'Psychic Boy Wonder Sees All!'"

"Wait," Reid said.

"Yes?" Jane asked, looking up.

"So you…didn't undergo any training to become…a mentalist?" he asked.

"No, I was born this way," Jane said, "same as you were born a genius."

Reid blinked. "Oh," he said. "Wow, that's…interesting…"

"Yeah," Jane said unenthusiastically. "It made me useful to my father, at least - I was a steady source of income, if nothing else, and my father was…well, he was a greedy bastard." He chuckled humorlessly. "Things were fine for years - I did as I was told, paid the bills…we were a great carney act, father and son.

"As I got older, the 'Psychic Boy Wonder' thing started to get kind of shaky, and I started stepping it up a bit, much to my father's displeasure. There was this one time when I was blindfolded and asked to guess what an object belonging to someone in the crowd was - it was a sterling silver cigarette case, and after I guessed it, my father tried to move on to the next item, but I took off my blindfold and told the woman who owned the case that I knew it belonged to someone close to her, who had died recently - I guessed grandfather first, then corrected myself and said grandmother. I…I don't know what prompted me, but I told the woman that her grandmother loved her very much, more than she may have expressed. I saw the look on her face when I said that, and…well, _I_ thought it was beautiful, but after the show, my father gave me an earful about it, said it had been an unnecessary risk. I pointed out that I had been right, and he said, and I quote, 'No, there is no "right" if there's no _payoff_.' That was…when we both first started to realize that he and I were…different.

"Meanwhile, my father had been staking out hospitals, looking for rich, desperate families with a dying member, spreading rumors about a crystal that could heal anything at all, and that day, he found the perfect mark. I was the one who was supposed to sell it, and beforehand, I was all for it, but then, when I met them…" Jane shook his head, still fiddling with his wedding ring. "It was a young girl, about my age," he said softly. "She had lung cancer, had gone through four rounds of chemotherapy but the tumors kept coming back, and her grandmother was very rich and very desperate. I realized, then, just exactly what I was doing - that my father was trying to steal from a dying girl, that _I_ was going to _help_ him steal from a dying girl - and I tried to back out. He talked me into doing it anyway, _shamed_ me into it, talked about how he'd done the hard part, worked for this…We got ten grand for the useless piece of quartz." He shook his head again, bitterly. "He was overjoyed, handed me a few of the hundred dollar bills after, saying I'd earned them. He was so happy…but I was just…" He hesitated, gathering his strength, then said, "I felt terrible about it, for days and weeks on end…and that was when my father fully realized what I was…what I am.

"You see, in the carney business…well, he spelled it out clearly that night: You're a loser, or you're someone who plays the losers. Either you're in, or you're out, and if you're out, that makes you a mark, a sucker…and I…was a mark. I had a conscience. My father was terribly ashamed of me for that.

"Carneys travel in families, like circus troupes, and they cross paths every now and then, and from that night on, whenever he introduced me to anyone new, he would say, 'This is my son, Mark. Well, his name's Patrick, but he's a mark, so don't pay any attention to him.' If anyone asked why, he told them about the crystal thing, and, well, that was always the kicker - everyone we met looked down on me and helped my father make me feel ashamed of my conscience. I _tried_ to stop feeling guilty, I _tried_ to be what my father wanted me to be, but I just…couldn't."

The BAU were looking at Jane with varying amounts of pity - Garcia was on the verge of getting teary-eyed.

"Then, one day, we ran across a new carney family, my father gave the usual introduction, and…instead of everyone looking down on me, all of them somehow ended up looking at this one particular member of their family, a girl about my age. I followed their eyes, and looked at her…and the moment I looked in her eyes, I knew…she was like me.

"She was a good person, but she wore it so much better than I did. She never let anyone push her around or make her feel ashamed - she was so strong and confident, so assertive in her virtuousness, that she made her entire _family_ feel ashamed that they _didn't_ care or feel guilt. They looked up to her, respected her, all of them, but that also made her very alone…like I had been.

"When I met her…for the first time, I stopped feeling like there was something wrong with me, like I should be ashamed for giving a damn about anyone. We became inseparable, and our families started to take it for granted…my father didn't approve, obviously, but he couldn't push her around any better than anyone else could.

"For years, we talked about how much we wanted out - how the carney life wasn't for us and we wanted to do something better with our lives. It was our dream, everything we ever wanted, and once we had each other, we could talk about it, think about it…all we had was each other.

"I started doing some psychic readings in towns we passed without my father's knowledge, saving money that he would take from me faster than you could blink if he found out about it - I had to be very careful. It wasn't just about the money - what made it different was that it was also about giving people closure, helping them find peace with things they would always wonder, burdens they would always carry around, following the death of someone close to them, if I didn't give them the answers they wanted to hear. It was about making people happy, giving them better lives, and the money…was more for Angela than me." Jane's throat constricted as he said his wife's name for the first time in so many years, but he forced himself to continue - the BAU were completely enthralled with his story by now, silent and still and listening intently.

"It takes a lot of money to rise out of the gutter and leave the carney life," he told them. "I had my…my gift, as she always called it, so I had a way to get myself out, but she…well, the only thing she really had going for her was a heart of gold, and as remarkable as that was, it wasn't helpful in terms of getting a career. So I saved up for both of us - I had to get her out with me, I couldn't leave her, couldn't…imagine a life without her." He swallowed, fighting back tears. "The day came, when I was twenty, that I finally had enough," he told the BAU, "and I told her as soon as I made it. She said she was happy for me, but it was clear that she was upset that I would be leaving her behind…I admit I let her feel that way for a few minutes before I told her that I wasn't going _anywhere_ without her." He stopped.

There was silence, several members of the audience even holding their breaths. Jane looked down at his hands, noticing, for the first time, that he was fiddling with his wedding ring.

"That was when I asked her to marry me," he said at last. "I know I make it sound like we weren't really in love, but we _were_, and more and more so every day after that…I loved her…" He stopped again, forcing himself to breathe for a minute.

"We got out," he finally went on, "but I…turned out to have miscalculated just how much money it took to survive…_and_ I spent a bit too much on the wedding." He smiled briefly at the memory of his youthful overconfidence, then sobered again. "It was rough going…It's not easy to start a psychic business, and we were starting from scratch, with _nothing_, not even a place to live. We didn't ever consider going back, though - we had escaped the carney life, and we had each other…we figured that, as long as we had each other, things would work out.

"After a couple of years, my business as a psychic started to take root, and suddenly, we had money to live on…and then…we had money to spare…and then we had a _lot_ of money to spare…" Jane hesitated, this time with shame. "I don't know exactly when it stopped being about making people happy, giving them closure, for me, and when I started to care more about the money and the power trip - I controlled people's lives, controlled what they thought, how they felt, and it…it was addictive. I don't know when it changed…but I know when…when my wife realized it had changed." He had to force his mouth to keep moving at this. "When my daughter was born," he choked.

Garcia and JJ gasped, Rossi and Morgan closed their eyes, Reid's mouth twisted slightly, and Hotch, though his expression didn't change, nodded, sad but understanding.

"I wasn't there," Jane confessed. "I had told her - _promised_ her - that I would be, but when she went into labor, I…I was…with a client, and…I thought that was more important." He took a breath, deeply ashamed at the memory.

"We started fighting after that," he continued, "more and more, as it became clear that I had lost sight of what was really important, that I was…following in my father's footsteps, in my own way. I mean, I was still giving people hope, helping them move on with their lives, relieving burdens, that was no less true, and that was my argument when…when my wife begged me to quit the psychic business and go straight, to…'use my gift to make the world a better place', as she used to say. She kept telling me that the money and power was going to my head, that I wasn't being a good example to our child, but I didn't listen to her…I _refused_ to listen to her. I scheduled my family life around my work life, especially when I got my own TV show, got to perform in front of an applauding crowd…it's a tremendous high, to do that, and I…I didn't let myself see what I was doing, what I had become.

"Finally, after years of my wife's pleading, when our daughter was four, I relented and tried to look into what I could use my…my 'gift' for that didn't involve conning people, which, naturally, led me to consulting for law enforcement. At first, it was just to get my wife off my back, but then…" He trailed off, reliving some of the surprise he had felt at the time. "Then…I helped put a bad guy away," he said. "It was just a small thing, a robbery, but I helped the police, and they caught the guy, and…it felt more…more _fulfilling_, than anything in my life ever had before. So I did it again, and again, and every time, it felt _wonderful_, like I was doing what I was meant to do." He sighed.

"I should have left the psychic business then," he said gravely. "I _should_ _have_. I still don't know why I didn't. If only I had…" He broke off and shook his head, battling his guilt. "But…things _did_ start getting better," he went on, a bit of a whine in his voice. "I started scheduling my work life around my family life, like I always should have, I tried to be a good father to my daughter, my wife and I fought less and less - she still urged me to quit the psychic business, but I…I don't know, I guess I was just being stubborn.

"After a little while, though, I decided I wanted to do something more than catch little small fry criminals and do something _big_, put a stop to someone who _mattered_. So I asked around, and that was when I heard about a serial killer who called himself Red John. A really nasty piece of work - his signature is drawing smiley faces in his victims' blood - horribly tortures and kills women, dances circles around the cops…He was everything I was looking for. So I started offering my assistance in the case.

"When I told my wife, she was…so proud of me…so happy…" Tears threatened to choke Jane off, and he had to take a moment before he could continue. "Things at home started getting better overall, my marriage was going well, my parenthood was going well, my business as a psychic was flourishing, I was helping the cops take down a terrible serial killer, I even found ways to be more honest with my clients while still doing my job…That was the happiest time of my life, and I felt like I was king of the world. And…I got cocky.

"As I told you, I had my own TV show by then, and one night, on my show, I was asked about Red John…and I…said some things I shouldn't have said. I didn't really know much about him, but I…I wanted to make myself look good in front of the cameras, so…I made up some stuff…" He closed his eyes and took a minute, then told them, "I said that he was 'an ugly, tormented little man, a lonely soul…and sad…very sad…'" He shook his head, his eyes screwed shut against his tears. "Those words will haunt me for the rest of my life," he said in a soft, broken voice, "because…he…Red John…saw me say that, and…he didn't like it. I was on live TV, and I didn't go home until a couple of hours after that, and when I came home…" He stopped.

The BAU was completely enraptured, all of them knowing what was coming but afraid to hear it said.

"I found a note…taped to my bedroom door - a typed note," Jane said. "I won't ever forget what it said: 'Dear mister Jane, I don't like to be slandered in the media, especially by a dirty money-grubbing fraud. If you were a real psychic, instead of a dishonest little worm, you wouldn't need to open the door to see what I've done to your lovely wife and child.'"

Garcia put a hand over her mouth; the others were frozen. Jane was shaking, but he forced himself to keep talking.

"I opened the door," he said, his voice cracking, "and…and my…my family…" He forced his eyes, glistening with tears he couldn't fight off completely, to open, and he met the gazes of the six agents before him. "He'd killed them," he forced himself to say. "Killed them horribly, same as all his victims, except, my daughter, too, and…he added something to his M.O. because it was personal…He…he painted my wife's toenails in her own blood." He closed his eyes again, shaking his head. "She shouldn't have died," he said, unable to hold these words back. "_I_ was the one who deserved to die, she deserved so much better, so much more from life, and our daughter had barely had a chance to feel the sun…" He broke off again, fighting to not dissolve into tears. _Crying won't bring them back,_ he reminded himself, _nor will it get Red John caught. But maybe…maybe these people listening to me now can._

He took a deep breath, forced the last of his overwhelming sadness and grief down, and opened his eyes again, solemnly meeting the gazes of the BAU. "I had a breakdown after that," he told them; "you won't find any record of it, I made sure of that…I know it's not something to be ashamed of, but I _am_ ashamed, so…Anyway, after I…got myself back together, I finally quit the psychic business entirely, and I joined Lisbon's team - she was the one in charge of the Red John case. I've…been chasing him ever since, catching other killers on the side to earn my keep here in the CBI."

"So, wait," Garcia exclaimed, "Red John is still out there?!"

"Oh yeah, he's still out there," Jane said, nodding. "Resurfaces every few months…even…plays games with me sometimes. He likes playing games with me, he's actually said so…likes our little…struggle…game of cat-and-mouse, I guess…Not to mention he loves knowing he can do anything and always leave the cops - and especially me - back at square one in the end."

"How can he evade _you_, though?" Reid asked.

"Oh, he doesn't just evade me, he dances circles around me, like he does everyone else," Jane said; "and…I guess, because he's very smart and very clever and has a lot of resources at his disposal…probably more than I even know of."

"So you have no idea who he is?" Hotch asked.

"Not a clue," Jane said.

"Well…do you want us to help you?" JJ asked. She looked around at her team. "We could go through whatever evidence you have, make a profile for you-"

"No, that's okay, you guys need to get back to Quantico," Jane said, waving the offer aside.

"Don't listen to him, JJ, of course he wants our help," Rossi said.

Jane blinked. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"That's why you told us your whole story," Rossi said; "you want us to _want_ to help you. 'Mentalist - a master manipulator of thoughts and behavior.'" he recited.

"I…" Jane trailed off, realizing he was trapped. "Well, okay, yeah, you're right," he admitted.

"Well, you could have just asked us!" Garcia exclaimed. "You didn't have to break our hearts!"

"I'm sorry, Penny," Jane said half-sincerely. He took a breath, then looked at each of the BAU agents in turn. "Hotch…Morgan…Spencer…JJ…Rossi…Penny…Will you please help me in my endeavor to catch Red John?"

"Of course we will!" Garcia exclaimed.

"Actually," Hotch said.

Everyone looked at him. "Sir, no offense, but we can't just walk away from this!" Garcia insisted. "I mean, you of all people should know-!"

"We'd need to clear it with Strauss first," Hotch said.

"Oh, I'll handle Chief Stress," Jane said dismissively, waving his hand. Garcia guffawed, most of the others chuckled, and even Hotch cracked a smile at the nickname that none of them had ever thought of but which suited their boss perfectly. "Just call her on your cell phone, Hotch, and let me talk to her - I'll get her to back us up."

"You sure about that?" Hotch asked, getting his phone out all the same.

"Nothing to it," Jane said, smiling. "And when I do get her consent, will you help me?"

"If you can really get her to let us do you that favor, absolutely we will," Hotch said, finishing the call. He gave the phone to Jane as it rang, and Jane turned on speaker phone, turned around so his back was to the BAU, and brought the phone to his ear.

"Yes, Agent Hotchner?" said a haughty woman's voice.

"Chief Strauss?" Jane asked. "Hi, I'm Patrick Jane, I'm part of the CBI team that recently worked with your team to catch a serial killer _and_ a one-time offender - the BAU?"

"Is there a problem?" Strauss asked.

"Problem?" Jane repeated with half a laugh. "Not at all! On the contrary, with your team's help, we found our guy in just a few _hours_, and they didn't take long to catch their guy, either! You really have an amazing team."

"Thank you," Strauss said slowly.

"So listen, uh, we here at the CBI have been chasing this one serial killer for years, he's called Red John," Jane told Strauss. "Horribly tortures women to death, he's been dancing circles around us, we have no idea who he is or how to find him. We were hoping maybe you could let your team help us out, put together a profile for us."

"Has there been a recent development in the case?" Strauss asked.

"No, but there is every few months," Jane said. "We know you want your team back at Quantico - and for good reason, they really are quite a team - but if we could just get a profile from them…No need for them to try to see it through to the end, that would probably take a while, but really, just getting a profile from them would be a huge help. Would it be okay with you if they stay here a bit longer and help us out?"

"Uh, absolutely," Chief Strauss said, and several of the BAU team members' jaws dropped. "By all means, take them for as long as you need."

"Thank you so much, we really appreciate it," Jane said.

"You're welcome, Agent…Jane, was it?"

"Yes, Patrick Jane," Jane said, not correcting her.

"I hope the BAU can provide you with what you need," she said.

"Oh, I'm sure they can. Thank you so much. Bye!" Jane said.

"Goodbye," Strauss said.

She hung up, and Jane turned back to the BAU, his arms spread. "Ta-da," he said, grinning.

"How did you do that?" Reid asked, shocked.

"You had her eating out of your hand!" JJ exclaimed.

"Nah, it wasn't that hard," Jane said modestly, handing Hotch's phone back to him. "I knew from the looks on several of your faces when Hotch mentioned her that she's the sort of boss who likes to be difficult - she likes to be in control, to not feel like her authority is being usurped under any circumstances. So, I referred to you guys as 'her' team, directing all of my praise for you guys partly at her; I made it clear that your help would be a tremendous favor, and I talked about it as though it was completely her choice, completely in her power to decide whether or not you could stay, without begging or pleading or demanding; I gave her full credit when she agreed; and I also used the, ah, the 'royal "we"', as they call it, when talking, as though I represented the entire CBI, which isn't entirely untrue in this case. That way, I made her feel very empowered and a little flattered, while at the same time being assertive about what I wanted from her. A few fine lines need to be treaded with people like her, but it wasn't too difficult."

"You'll have to teach me how to do that sometime," Hotch said, flashing a very rare smile.

"Help me catch Red John, and I would be more than happy to," Jane half-teased.

"Yeah, we have the okay, let's go!" Garcia said enthusiastically, and she started lugging her computers back to Jane's space.

_She's such a sweet girl,_ Jane found himself thinking, as he and the rest of the BAU headed back.

~o~

"Well, well, well," Red John said out loud, leaning back, as the BAU followed Jane like a bunch of ducklings following their mother. "I didn't know it went quite _that_ way, Old Friend…_very_ interesting." He chuckled. "'Mark'," he repeated. "How about that…It's almost as though we were _always_ destined to be enemies." He chuckled again at the thought.

Then, his lips curled into a smirk. "But you should know better than to ask for outside help," he hissed; "you had better hope these agents aren't half as good at their job when it comes to me as they are otherwise, or you _and_ they will pay a…_very_ steep price."

He laughed again, evilly this time, already making plans…

~o~

When Jane came back, Lisbon looked up to find the rest of the BAU following behind him.

"Oh, hey," she said; "what's going on?"

"We're going to help you catch Red John," JJ said.

Lisbon looked at Jane, shocked. He just grinned at her.


	6. Chapter 4

"We're going to _try_ to help you catch Red John," Hotch corrected JJ.

Lisbon was speechless; Jane was ecstatic. Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt looked from Jane to Lisbon and back, wondering what to do, even what to think.

"Uh, Rigsby? Cho? Van Pelt?" Lisbon finally said, addressing her team. "Would you please go get the Red John case file from Jane's perch? It's probably scattered all over the place - chuck everything into the boxes and bring it all down here, okay?"

They got the message. "Yes, boss," Rigsby said, and he, Cho, and Van Pelt all left.

Garcia started setting her computers back up on Jane's desk. Most of the rest of BAU were getting settled back into the space, but when Lisbon looked, Jane and Hotch had vanished. She left quickly, looking for them; she had some words for Jane…

~o~

"What is it you wish to speak to me in private about, Mr. Jane?" Hotch asked, as though Jane had any sort of authority.

Jane stopped and turned to him; they were well away from everyone, but he knew Lisbon would be coming after him soon, so he needed his answers quickly.

"When I told you what happened to my wife, I saw something in your eyes," Jane said: "you know what that's like. A serial killer murdered someone you loved because they had a vendetta against you, didn't they?"

Pain showed through Hotchner's typical expressionless mask. "Foyet," he said. "George Foyet, named himself The Reaper…He offered me a deal - said he'd stop hunting people if I stopped hunting him - but I said no, and…he didn't like that."

Jane nodded. "Who did he kill?" he asked; he knew all too well the pain he was forcing Hotch through, but he needed to know something.

"My ex-wife," Hotch answered. "We…didn't divorce because we stopped loving each other, though, it was just…"

"You prioritized your job as a supervisory agent of the BAU over your family," Jane finished, nodding. "Well, that's a far more noble cause than being a money-grubbing fraud, there's no shame in wanting to catch serial killers and put them away before they can hurt anyone else, your family or otherwise." He hesitated, then added, "You have kids?"

"A son," Hotch answered. "When Foyet got to my family, Haley called me…I was able to give my son a code phrase so that he would hide…" A sad smile cracked his face. "I remembered I was working in my office one day, and found Jack in a trunk next to my desk," he reminisced; "I asked him what he was doing, and he said he was 'working the case with me.'"

Jane chuckled sadly, too. "Kids," he said.

Hotch nodded. "Yeah." He took a moment to compose himself, then went on, "I told Jack to work the case, so he went and hid, but Haley…she had nowhere to run. Foyet let her talk to me…She made me promise that I would…tell Jack how we met, that I…I wasn't always so serious, because…because love is…the most important thing…" He closed his eyes and shook his head, showing more emotion than Jane had ever even thought he _could_ show. "…and then, as I was listening…he shot her."

"You went straight to the place where he had shot your wife," Jane picked up. "You and he struggled, you overpowered him…and you killed him. Didn't you?"

Hotch looked at the floor, but nodded.

"How did that feel?" Jane asked; this was what he needed to know. "How did it feel, to avenge the death of someone you loved, put an end to a monster who went out of his way to torment you?"

"I…" Hotch hesitated, then looked Jane in the eye and said, "I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Jane demanded, still in a low voice.

"I…I blanked out," Hotch said, his eyes losing focus as he relived that nightmare of a day. "He almost got me, and he started taunting me, telling me…what he was going to do to Jack after I was dead…I…I knocked him down, he surrendered, but I…" He shook his head. "All I could see was his face, behind his mask, Haley lying dead on the floor, Jack in that trunk, Foyet's face exposed, flashes of people he killed…it all just…flashed before my eyes…I started punching him, but…at some point I must've…started just…ramming his head against the floor, because…that was what I was doing when the team came and found me several minutes later. They had to pull me off his corpse, and it took me a minute after that before I regained my senses." He met Jane's eyes sadly. "I don't remember killing him," he said; "I was…too numb, too overwhelmed, too angry, I guess…Some of it still doesn't feel real, even after all this time."

Jane nodded, acknowledging that Hotchner was being completely honest with him.

"Do you plan to kill the man who murdered your wife and daughter?" Hotch asked.

"Yes," Jane said, "I do. I _will_."

Hotch sighed, but nodded. "I understand."

"I knew you would," Jane said, and he smiled.

"Jane?"

"Time for this conversation to be over," Jane muttered to Hotch, and looked at Lisbon. "Yes, Lisbon?" he asked.

She walked up to him, then glanced at Hotch. "Agent Hotchner, sir, if you could please give us a minute, your team's back in the office space…"

"Yes, ma'am," Hotch said, and he walked away, leaving Lisbon and Jane alone.

Before Jane could say a word, Lisbon stepped close to him, lowered her voice, and demanded, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm getting their help," Jane replied in an equally low voice.

"You said that Red John was going to stay out of this," Lisbon said, glaring.

"Yes, because Red John is _mine_," Jane said; "but the BAU, they understand that - in case you haven't noticed, they follow me around like ducklings! So I can get their help without worrying about them trying to get in my way. I can trust them, and they can help, and you said it yourself, we need all the help we can get."

"You aren't authorized to ask for the FBI to get involved in _anything_," Lisbon argued.

"I talked to their boss," Jane countered. "Lovely lady, bit full of herself but that's no problem - I got her to give permission for the BAU to stay a while and give us a profile for Red John."

Lisbon took a breath; she didn't want to say it, but evidently, it needed to be said. She lowered her voice further, so Jane had to lean in to hear her.

"If Red John finds out about this - and he probably already has," she said, "he is going to be very mad. You are bringing in outside help, when he wants to play his game with you alone. Just by asking for the BAU's help, you're crossing him, and he almost certainly already knows."

"Lisbon, you talk about him like he's some sort of all-seeing magician or something," Jane said, smiling with amusement.

"I am not kidding!" Lisbon hissed, fully aware that it was pointless, that Red John was probably listening to their conversation as it happened no matter how quietly she tried to talk. "He's going to be pissed, if he isn't already! You don't want to do this!"

"Lisbon, since when are you so against trying to take down Red John?" Jane asked, becoming genuinely perplexed by her protests.

"I'm _not_," Lisbon said, "but I know what he's capable of, and I know that if you make him mad, you _will_ regret it - and he'll probably punish the BAU, too. You don't want that on your conscience, and you don't want to find out what he might do if he gets mad."

Jane shook his head, utterly bewildered. "Lisbon, it's not like he's watching and listening to us right _now_," he said.

"Actually, it's _exactly_ like that," Lisbon told him. She glanced around, then lowered her voice again and said, "Look, I know him - a _lot_ better than you do. Trust me, you don't want to bring in the BAU, _especially_ not if they can help. He does horrible things just for _sport_, but if he gets mad, he _will_ make you regret it…and he has the resources and power - including manpower - to do pretty much anything, anytime, anywhere. I am not exaggerating."

"If he can do anything, anytime, anywhere, then I need the BAU's help all the more," Jane said.

"Trust me, Jane, it's not worth it," Lisbon said, pleading with him now. "I thought of asking for their help when I first learned that their specialty was serial killers, but I've thought about it since then, and I know better. You have no idea what Red John's capable of, but I'm telling you, this is a bad idea." She hesitated, then added, "Look, if you'd just let me tell you what he-"

"I do _not_ want to hear you tell me what he did to you," Jane said; "under _no_ circumstances are you to tell _anyone_ what he did to you. You don't need to relive it."

"What if I know something you need to know?" Lisbon demanded, and Jane felt a chill run down his spine. "What if he told me something important?"

"Then I'll take that loss, and deal with the consequences," Jane answered, forcing indifference.

Lisbon shook her head. "No, Jane, you won't," she told him, "because you won't be the only one who will have to pay a price. _No_ _one_ is safe from him, _ever_ - nothing and no one is out of his reach."

"Lisbon, I realize he tortured you for three weeks, but it's not like you to be so afraid of one man," Jane said.

"He's not a man," Lisbon said. "You don't understand - he isn't human."

"If he's not human, then what is he?" Jane asked, half-sarcastically.

"He's a monster," Lisbon answered. She sighed and shook her head. "Jane, please, I'm asking you to trust me," she begged. "Tell them to go. You said it yourself, they follow your direction, for _some_ reason…" She rolled her eyes, and Jane smirked. "They'll go if you insist that they do," she told him; "go and get them out of here."

"I'm sorry, Lisbon, but I can't do that," Jane said. "As I told you, I cleared this with their boss; they're _expected_ - _obligated_ - to put together a profile for us." He started walking around her, headed back for the office space.

"Jane, you don't want to do this," Lisbon said as she followed him, genuinely afraid of the repercussions Red John would inflict on them for this. "If he doesn't want you to do this-"

"He won't even find out," Jane said dismissively.

"He already has!" Lisbon exclaimed. "Jane, you don't understand-!"

"What I understand," Jane said sternly, stopping and turning to her, "is that the BAU can help me catch him, and I can count on them to understand that in the end, he's mine."

Lisbon said nothing.

Jane shrugged. "I have no choice, Lisbon," he said. "I can't keep letting him dance circles around me, waiting for him to do something before I can even do anything to try to find him. I need to take the initiative, and this is the way in which I can do that that has the best chance of getting useful results."

Lisbon closed her eyes and sighed, but she had no choice but to concede. "I hate it when you're right," she muttered.

"So you agree?" Jane pressed.

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Yeah, okay, you _are_ right," she admitted; "I just think that Red John will be mad, that's all."

"Duly noted," Jane said, and he turned back and rejoined the BAU. Lisbon followed him, praying for she didn't know what…a miracle, maybe. Because nothing short of a miracle would see this end well.

~o~

"You still won't listen to the wisdom of the intelligent women in your life, will you, Old Friend?" Red John mocked under his breath. "You should have listened to My Dear Little Saint Teresa…"

He tilted his head, looking more closely at Lisbon's beautiful face. He could see the depth of her fear, her apprehension, very clearly: the tension in her facial muscles, her wide eyes, her body shaking slightly, her mouth open just a bit as she needed more oxygen than the nasal canal alone would allow, as her brain reacted to her fear and poured adrenaline into her system to ready her for battle with whatever terror she faced. It was a hormonal reflex, completely pointless in this case, but Red John saw it clearly. But…he didn't love it.

To him, fear was beautiful. He had seen much more fearful expressions, watched and listened to people scream with terror, then agony, the sounds sweeter to him than any melody. Horror, dread, pain, despair, grief - these were the paints with which he created works of art. No need for an elaborate design - a simple smiley face, just unique enough to be unsettling, was the only signature he needed to leave behind. The true masterpiece, the eyes of the dragon, was the effect on whoever found his work - when someone _discovered_ that a life, a soul, had ended, and had ended _painfully_, _horribly_, almost _wishing_ for death by the time their end finally came. Red John loved and reveled in all of it - it was his pleasure, his purpose, his essence, his heart and soul, his very _raison d'être_.

But then…there was Teresa Lisbon. All those beautiful expressions, delicious feelings that weighed a person down…didn't look so pleasant when it was she who bore them. He didn't enjoy her fear, her pain…For some reason, he didn't like seeing her hurt.

_Why?_ he wondered, for the thousandth time only that week. _Why do you have this effect on me? Why do you make me feel this way, Saint Teresa? Why and how?_

He closed his eyes, forced to give his Old Friend some privacy for a moment as, again, he relived his experiences with Lisbon. He remembered when her spirit had been fading, and he had told her his true nature, what separated him from the sick, the empty, the broken - what made him a _true_ monster, what _true_ evil _really_ was. To learn what he was, and that he existed, would break most spirits - any human would be shattered to know that he existed, it would destroy every idea they had ever had about right and wrong, good and evil, even any of the many emotions known to man…but Teresa hadn't broken. Instead of winking out, the spark in her eyes had ignited into a blazing green fire - life had filled her, rejuvenated her, driven her to defy, with every fiber of her being, everything he was, everything he stood for. He had known, then, that Teresa was truly worthy of the time and energy he was putting into torturing her - hers was a spirit truly _worth_ breaking, a challenge even for him…and he had vowed, then and there, that he _would_ break her, no matter what it took - he wouldn't kill her until he managed to completely extinguish that fire that filled her soul and scorched him through those brilliant green eyes.

And then, when he had succeeded, completely destroyed her…he didn't get to kill her, but really, he _had_, in a way - she was dead in spirit, only alive in that her body breathed. He _knew_ what he had done to her - her fire had _died_. And dead is dead - there is no resurrection, no revitalization, no bringing back what is dead and gone; that was a large part of why he loved killing so much.

He remembered how she had needed to feel his Old Friend beside her in bed at night just to sleep comfortably - he still got a great deal of amusement out of his Old Friend's discomfort with the situation, not least because it meant that he had succeeded in his objective in taking someone close to him: his Old Friend had remembered who he was, who he belonged to - that the love of his life, whom he had promised forever, was dead, but not really gone, not as long as Red John lived. He remembered when Lisbon had finally told his Old Friend the true degree of her inner death - that she couldn't even say for sure if the thoughts and feelings in her head were her own anymore. Red John had smiled at that.

But then, minutes later…she hadn't needed Red John's Old Friend quite so much. Just a touch, a hand on her arm, was all she needed. Red John remembered his amazement as he had watched her recover, watch the spark rekindle in her soul, the tiny flame that began to shine through her eyes again, getting stronger and stronger every day. What had been dead and gone was back, alive and well. He couldn't believe what he had been seeing, but it had been so.

And now…

Now, whenever he looked at her, he felt more human than he had ever thought he could be. What he felt for her was unlike anything he had ever known in his life, something he almost feared - _was_ he human, after all? Love…This had to be love that he was feeling, impossible though it was…

He opened his eyes again. The BAU had begun looking through his case file, with his Old Friend and Teresa and the others standing by and watching, waiting, ready to answer any questions when they came as best they could. He spared one last admiring gaze at Teresa, then forced himself to focus on the matter at hand. His feelings could wait; this could not.


	7. Chapter 5

Jane returned just in time to find his team set down the two boxes of papers that constituted Red John's case file.

"You have this much evidence and no idea who the unsub is?" Reid asked, surprised.

Jane shrugged. "He's very prolific, and even little-to-no evidence at every scene adds up over the years," he said.

"And, uh, don't call him 'the unsub'," Lisbon said.

The BAU turned to her.

"I know it's protocol for you guys," she said, "but in this case, please, I am _begging_ you to make an exception. Call him Red John. It's who he is, and…just…just call him Red John." She felt Jane's eyes glaring at her, and she knew she was not to give any indication that she had personal experience with Red John. For the time being, she followed his direction, but she hoped that she would get a chance to tell the BAU her story at some point - if they were going to help, they were going to need to know as much as possible, and she had much more information about Red John than all of those papers combined could provide.

"Agent Lisbon," Hotch began, but she boldly cut him off - politeness was secondary to everyone's safety and well-being.

"I know it's protocol," she repeated, "and normally, that's very important to me, but in this case, you need to refer to him as Red John." She met Agent Hotchner's eyes, silently pleading with him to understand. "I do have a good reason to ask this of you; please trust me on this," she said.

Maybe Hotch could read her the way Jane could, because he nodded and didn't question her. "Very well," he said.

"Hotch," Rossi began, surprised.

"We'll call him Red John," Hotch said firmly, giving Rossi a stern look. "Considering that Agent Lisbon has been in charge of this investigation from the beginning, if she thinks it's that important, it would be foolish not to take her word for it."

Rossi nodded, as did the others, and that was the last that was said on the matter. Lisbon silently thanked each and every one of her lucky stars that Hotch had listened to her; some might think it was a small thing, the difference between "Red John" and "the unsub", but she knew he was watching, and that he was very proud; if the BAU insisted on calling him "the unsub" rather than his preferred name, he would get that much angrier every time they said it, and he was probably mad enough as it was.

"Anyway," Jane said, walking over to the two boxes of papers he knew by heart, "there's a lot to go through, and of course there are things papers don't keep records of."

"We should start with the hard evidence first," Hotch said.

"Then please, dive in," Jane said. Then he reconsidered and said, "On second thought, since Spencer here can read…how many words per minute?" he asked, turning to Reid.

"Two hundred thousand," Reid replied.

"Two hundred thousand words a minute," Jane said, nodding, "and that he has an eidetic memory, it would probably be most efficient if he goes through every file himself before anyone else looks at them."

"That makes sense," Hotch agreed.

And so, Reid started going through the files. The rest of the BAU had to stand back and wait for their turn to look at any of it, but it wasn't long before there were more than plenty of files to go around. Jane, Lisbon, and their team sat back and waited, ready to answer any questions that might come up.

Details were reviewed and recounted, tales were told and clarified, pictures were scrounged and discussed…the BAU familiarized itself with the Red John case as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Suddenly, Reid stopped.

"Uh, Jane?" he asked, staring intently at a single piece of paper.

"Yes?" Jane asked, walking over to look at what was bothering him…and saw that Reid was looking at the paper in which Red John had encoded his location during his game of "hide-and-seek" with Lisbon's life as the stakes.

He could have kicked himself. Of _course_ Reid would notice that! He should have fixed that paper ages ago…

"There's a hidden message here," Reid began.

"Uh, yes, I know," Jane said quickly; "it's not important anymore - not relevant to _anything_." He put a hand on Reid's shoulder and looked him in the eye. "Trust me," he said, trying to convey with his eyes the degree of his desire for Reid to completely forget about the message that was barely hidden in that piece of paper.

Reid blinked. "Okay…" he said slowly, giving Jane an odd look, but he didn't protest any further.

"That goes for all of you," Jane added, turning to the rest o the BAU and pointing a finger for emphasis. "There are map coordinates encoded on that paper, they point to a spot in the middle of nowhere, but they aren't relevant anymore, to _anything_. Ignore them."

"I don't suppose there's any chance you'll tell us what they _were_ relevant to?" Rossi asked.

Jane smiled at him. "No chance at all," he confirmed.

Rossi nodded, albeit hesitantly, and the researching resumed.

From then on, though, Lisbon was nervous. Jane really meant it when he said that he didn't want her to tell anyone what had happened to her…but if ever there was a time when she needed to tell someone, it was here and now. They needed _everything_, and…and…

_And if there's anyone who can explain why he keeps saying he's in love with me, it's the BAU._

The thought surprised her - that she had been talking to and meeting with Red John was a secret she was keeping from _Jane_, not just everyone else. And if he found out…

_It's bound to happen eventually,_ said the same, unexpected voice. _If it's told in a situation where it can be used to bring Red John down, he might be a little less upset._

But Jane didn't want her to say a _word_ about Red John…and, truth be told, she really _didn't_ want to relive what had happened to her. She wasn't sure if, even after all this time, she could truly _handle_ reliving it…and it wasn't a risk she was eager to take.

_But it might be what's needed to catch Red John._

Jane noticed that Lisbon was very still and silent - withdrawn, even - as the last of the files circulated through the BAU. He guessed what was going on, and he walked over to stand beside her.

"No," he said in her ear.

Lisbon blinked, and she knew, then, what she had to do. She looked at Jane and nodded, appearing almost contrite, and he was too busy thinking about Red John at that point to make the most of his "gift" and see through it.

At last, the BAU had everything there was to be had from the case files. They looked at each other for a few minutes, communicating nonverbally in a way only a close-knit group of psychoanalysts could. Then, Hotch looked at Lisbon's team.

"We'd like a few minutes to discuss what we've read, if that's okay with you," he said.

Jane nodded, but Lisbon stepped forward.

"Wait," she said.

Jane turned to her. "Lisbon…" he said warningly.

"I have information that isn't in that file," Lisbon said quickly.

"Lisbon!" Jane exclaimed.

She turned to him. "I know you don't want me to - and to be honest, I don't really want to, either - but they need to know!"

"They do _not_ need to know!" Jane said angrily.

"How about you let us be the judge of that?" Morgan asked. He turned to Lisbon. "Agent Lisbon, how do you know that you have information on Red John that isn't in this file?"

"Don't you dare tell them," Jane said, but Lisbon had made up her mind.

"Red John abducted me," she told them. "I was his prisoner for three weeks, and he tortured me every day." She swallowed. "He told me things…a _lot_ of things - he likes to hear himself talk, really."

Hotch nodded. "That would make sense," he said.

"Why isn't there anything in this file about Red John abducting you?" JJ asked.

"Because Jane made sure of it," Lisbon said

"Because I made sure of it," Jane said at the same time.

"Why?" Morgan asked, baffled.

Jane glared at Lisbon, but had no words. Lisbon hesitated, then said, "Because he blames himself." She looked at the BAU. "Red John kidnapped me because Jane and I are friends. He wanted to play a game with my life as the stakes so as to take a stab at Jane."

"A game?" Reid asked. "What kind of game?"

"Hide-and-go-seek," Lisbon answered. "That's what those coordinates encoded on that paper were for - it was where he was keeping me."

"Why wouldn't you want us to know this?" Rossi demanded of Jane.

"Because there is no reason for Lisbon to relive whatever Red John did to her," Jane told him firmly.

"Yes, there is, Jane, and you know it," Lisbon said. Her expression softened. "Look, I…I don't really want to, either," she said, "but they need to know as much as possible about Red John, and I know things they can't guess at."

Jane glared at her and shook his head.

"Jane, I'm going to tell them, whether you like it or not," Lisbon said. "And…" She hesitated, then swallowed her pride and said, "I'd appreciate it if you would help me."

"Help you how?" Jane demanded.

"You know how," Lisbon said softly.

Jane closed his eyes. At this point, he knew it was pointless to ask that Lisbon not tell her story to the BAU - they wouldn't stop asking until they had heard, and not without good cause. And that left only one option.

He forced down his anger and nodded. "Okay," he sighed. "If you must, I won't make you do it without me." Then, he walked over to her and put his arms around her. She leaned into him - though she had recovered fully from her trauma, traumatic memory image was permanent, and Jane being close would _always_ make her feel safe.

Garcia raised her eyebrows, but Jane ignored her.

"If you want to take a minute, I'll start by telling them my side of the story," Jane murmured.

"Mmkay," Lisbon said.

Jane held her close, turned to the BAU, and told his end of what had happened. He ended up telling the entire story as he knew it, from start to finish, with nothing but a little commentary from Lisbon. He hesitated before telling the story of Lisbon's recovery, but she indicated that she wanted him to tell them that, too, so he did. The BAU bore expressions of astonishment by the time he was done, but they didn't know the half of it, really.

Then, when Jane was done, it was her turn. She took a breath, then started telling her story, for the first time, from the moment she got out of her car that night to the moment Red John had knocked her out in preparation for Jane's arrival.

It wasn't easy to talk about - and some parts were harder than others - but with Jane there to comfort her, she managed. There was only one thing she didn't even tell a tiny bit of: the story of Red John's one regret. That was just too much, and the BAU didn't _really_ need to know Red John _that_ well. Apart from that, though, she gave every detail she could remember, even if it had been embarrassing or humiliating or disgusting - including her own thoughts at times. She knew the BAU needed as much information as they could get, and she gave them everything she could.

Then she was done. She was shaking, and she had to bury her face in Jane's shoulder, clinging to him without shame, as though to life itself. _You're alive,_ she reminded herself. _You're alive, you beat him, and he can't hurt you anymore._

The BAU exchanged looks; Lisbon's story had been quite something. There was one question on all of their minds, one thing that didn't add up, but none of them wanted to press Lisbon for more details - she was clearly badly shaken already.

Jane tightened his embrace, then murmured, "Lisbon."

She looked up, tears in her eyes, and before she could even ask, he quickly touched his lips to hers, just to remind her that she was safe. Everyone had already heard about why that was a thing, so even Garcia didn't comment, but Lisbon blushed slightly - traumatic memory image or no, being kissed by a coworker in front of one of the FBI's best teams was not a situation she wanted to be in.

But she _did_ feel better.

Finally, Hotch sighed.

"Agent Lisbon, I realize you've been through a lot," he said, "but there's something we need you to tell us."

She turned to them, still in Jane's arms. "What?" she asked, worried that he had guessed that she had kept part of the story from them. "I told you everything that happened."

All six members of the BAU hesitated, but finally, Reid asked, "Did Red John ever call you like he said he would? After your recovery, that is?"

_Oh._

"No," Jane answered for her, "of course he didn't."

"Actually, Jane…" Lisbon bit her lip. She really shouldn't have been keeping this secret from him, she realized that now.

"Lisbon?" Jane asked.

Lisbon took a moment to silently pray that Jane would understand, or at least forgive her. Then, she took a breath, met his eyes, and said, "Red John _did_ call me. He's called me almost every night since we ran out of leads on the victim he took when I finished recovering."

"Almost every night?" Jane repeated faintly, his embrace loosening.

Shock. The first response. Next would come anger. But Lisbon had to tell.

"Yes," she said. "We talk every night…He says he doesn't know anyone else sharp enough to be a good conversationalist besides me, and…" She hesitated.

"And what?" Jane asked, anger rising past the shock. "And _what_, Lisbon?"

She took a breath. "He…throws parties for his friends, and…sometimes he invites me," she said.

"You don't accept, do you?" Jane asked.

"Yes," Lisbon confessed as he withdrew from her, stepping back away from her with wide eyes that were growing angrier by the second. "I accept every time he invites me. A friend of his puts me back on vision blockers and knocks me out so I don't know where they meet and can't see anyone's faces, and they don't use real names - Red John has nicknames for all of them, and they all have their own shorthand version that they use when talking to each other. I have no means of identifying anyone at any of these parties, or of arresting or otherwise stopping Red John - I've tried. I _swear_ to you, I've tried."

Jane was shaking his head, his eyes wide, glaring at her accusingly. "Why?" he asked in a shaking voice.

Lisbon lifted her chin. "Because he can't hurt me anymore," she told him. "I don't need to run crying to you every time Red John does something - I can handle him on my own. He can't break me again."

"Lisbon, you…you have been sneaking around with Red John behind my back!" Jane exclaimed.

"Sneaking around?!" Lisbon repeated. "You make it sound like I'm dating him!"

"Well, aren't you?" Jane snarled.

"No!" she shouted. "I _hate_ him! I want him _dead_, you know I do!"

"Then why do you attend his 'parties'?" Jane asked, putting furious, sarcastic air quotes around the word.

"Because even if I do, _he can't hurt me anymore_," Lisbon told Jane firmly. "I can speak with him in person, I can be surrounded by his friends, and I'm okay. I don't need you to babysit me!"

"Agent Lisbon," Hotch said.

She spun around to face the BAU, realizing what she had just confessed to. "I know, I know," she said, "fraternizing with a known criminal is illegal, but it isn't like that-"

"What do you and he talk about?" Rossi asked.

Lisbon blinked. "Oh," she said dumbly. "Uh…all kinds of stuff. Whatever he feels like talking about. Like I said, he likes to hear himself talk."

"More likely, he likes other people to hear him talk," Rossi said.

"Well, yeah," Lisbon said lamely, "same thing."

"Has he told you why he keeps contacting you?" Hotch asked.

"I don't know why he does it," Lisbon told them; "I mean…" She hesitated, knowing what Jane's reaction would be, but they probably needed to know. "He _says_ it's because he's in love with me," she told them, "but that's-"

"_WHAT_?" Jane shouted. He stormed forward and grabbed her arm, tightly, painfully, and pulled her back around to face him. "_You think he loves you_?!"

"_NO_!" Lisbon exclaimed. "No, of course I don't! Do you think I'm stupid?!" She tried to pull out of his grip. "Let go of me!" she snapped.

Jane let go of her abruptly, as though she was a slug or some such thing and the very thought of touching her repulsed him. He sat down on his couch, glaring at her with the wrath he normally only directed at Red John.

"Is this why you didn't want me to ask for their help?" he demanded.

"What? No!" Lisbon cried. "I-!"

"Tell. Me. Everything," he growled.

Lisbon looked from him, to the rest of her team, to the BAU, and back to him again. She felt everyone's eyes fixed on her, some accusing, others confused, others simply curious. Her face grew hot; she was on the spot, and whatever she said now, no one present would ever forget her words.

But she had to tell.

"Okay," she said softly.

And she told them. She told them about their first calls, about the question game, about the first invitation, the first time she attended a party and everything that had happened there and in the aftermath, about the earrings, about her conversation with Brett Stiles…At some point, she stopped consciously thinking about it, and her mouth just formed the words automatically, letting it all out. As she spoke, she realized how badly she had wanted to tell someone about all of this, and how guilty she felt for hiding it. She had been living a secret life, partying with a monster, and that just wasn't the sort of person she normally was. _What did I let Red John turn me into?_ she wondered as she spoke.

At first, Jane's glare could have murdered her where she stood; but as her story progressed, his anger burned itself out, leaving nothing but pain and sorrow. By the time she was done, his expression had crumpled, leaving nothing but hurt and despair…the face of a broken man.

When she was done, there was silence. She closed her eyes, glad to have confessed her sins, ashamed at having kept them secret for so long. _What was I thinking?_ she wondered now, looking back on it all.

At last, Jane spoke, breaking the silence, though his voice was soft and empty.

"How could you do this to me, Lisbon?" he asked.

She met his eyes…his sad, broken eyes…and felt that she was the most despicable woman on Earth.

"Jane, I…I'm sorry, I…It…it wasn't…" she tried to say, but Jane shook his head and stood.

"Don't talk to me," he said, brushing past her. "Just leave me alone." He paused and glanced at the BAU. "You wanted some private time to discuss everything anyway," he said, and nothing more.

Everyone watched him go, the softer of heart with tear-filled eyes, the rest with sorrow and sympathy all the same. There was silence for a long minute. Lisbon wanted to go after Jane, but for some reason, she couldn't move.

"Agent Lisbon."

It was Reid who had broken the silence. She turned to him. "Yes?"

"Can I see the earrings?" he asked. "Please?"

"Yeah, sure, I…I'll go get them," Lisbon said, and her legs started carrying her to her office.

She felt horrible. She hated Red John and wanted him brought down - that had never changed - but she had done exactly what he'd wanted her to do all the same. Yes, she had been dating him, or might as well have for all the difference it would make to how badly she had betrayed Jane. _He saved me from that monster,_ she thought miserably; _the monster who murdered his wife and daughter…and I've been sneaking around behind his back, drinking champagne with the freak, letting him drive me home…letting him…kiss me…_

She felt sick. When she reached her desk, her knees refused to support her any longer, and she sat down in her chair heavily. Still, she opened the bottom right-hand drawer, pushed the papers aside, and took out the black box that contained her earrings. She was going to bring them back so Reid could look at them, but for now, she opened the box and just looked at them herself…at the very symbol of her betrayal.

Tears spilled from her eyes. "I hate you," she whispered out loud, as though the earrings were Red John himself, and she knew he could hear her. "I hate you so much…"

~o~

Red John nodded solemnly. "I know," he said to his monitor. "I know you do, and you have every right to."

He sighed. Even his Old Friend's pain didn't make this enjoyable. Watching Saint Teresa relive everything he had done to her, all in the space of a few hours, had been…mortifying. He didn't like seeing her like this. He didn't like that he didn't like seeing her like this, either, but he couldn't help it. He felt no guilt - none at all! - but he felt no pleasure, either.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, Saint Teresa," he said softly, "but…I didn't mean for this to happen. I had hoped my Old Friend would never find out. I never thought you'd tell, never thought you'd ever feel you had reason to."

Was he sorry?…No, no, he wasn't sorry, of _course_ he wasn't sorry! But…he wasn't glad, either. At all. And that just wasn't like him.

_Why do you do this to me?_ he wondered again. _Why, and _how_?_

At last, he forced himself to stop looking at Teresa and turn his eyes on his Old Friend.

~o~

Jane was lying on his cot in his perch. He felt empty. Red John had taken Lisbon from him after all. It didn't matter that she said she hated Red John…She was the only person in the world he had thought he could trust, and she had betrayed him, lied to him and had a secret life with the man who had murdered his family - who had almost murdered _her_! How? _Why_?

He couldn't hate her, though - not after everything they had been through together. Red John was the one to blame, he knew that - his cleverness and resourcefulness had given him the power to lure Lisbon into behaving as she had.

Red John was _always_ to blame.

"Will you ever stop finding ways to make me miserable?" Jane whispered out loud. "What more can you take away from me? How do you always manage to find ways to make my life worse?" He gave a hysterical chuckle. "You have quite a talent…you bastard…"

He closed his eyes against his tears. It didn't help.

~o~

Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt were in absolute shock. They were in the break room, giving the BAU some time to go over everything they had learned and put together a profile.

"It's crazy," Rigsby finally said.

"Yeah," Cho agreed.

Van Pelt nodded, but she was thinking…

"What should we…think of Lisbon?" she asked.

Rigsby and Cho looked up at her.

"What do you mean?" asked Cho. "She's the same as she's always been."

"No, she's not!" Van Pelt said. "I mean, she is, but…between what Red John did to her and her…secret life with him after, I just…we just…she just…" She shook her head, unable to find the words. "I don't get it!"

"Grace, _none_ of us get it," Rigsby said. "We just have to trust that she had her reasons."

"I know, but…" Van Pelt shook her head again.

"I'm more worried about what Jane's going to do about it," Cho said.

"Yeah…I've never seen him like that," Rigsby agreed, "not even when Red John slipped away for the umpteenth time."

"He feels like Red John took Lisbon from him even though he didn't manage to kill or permanently traumatize her," Van Pelt said; "of course he's hurting."

"How do you know that?" Rigsby asked.

"I just…know," Van Pelt said; she wasn't really sure how she understood, either, but she knew she was right. "I don't know what he might do about it, though."

"He almost looked like he felt like there's nothing he _can_ do," Rigsby said. "Like, _ever_."

The others nodded, not wanting to say it themselves.

And there was nothing more to say.

~o~

The BAU were bouncing facts off each other when Lisbon finally returned with a small jewelry box.

"Agent Lisbon," Hotch acknowledged her.

She nodded at him, then walked over to Reid. "These are the earrings," she said.

Reid opened the box. Everyone watched him, wondering what he could possibly be looking for. His brow furrowed, as though he found something very confusing, and he took one of the earrings out of the box. He weighed it in his hand, then held it up to the light, squinting.

"That's impossible," he finally said.

"So is he," Lisbon said tonelessly.

"Reid."

Reid looked at Morgan.

"_What's_ impossible?" Morgan asked him.

"All natural emeralds are flawed - the only way to get an emerald that's completely flawless is to grow it synthetically," Reid explained. He held up the earring. "This earring - this _emerald_ - has flaws in it. It's natural. But that means that he carved these - _both_ of these - out of large, natural emeralds. _Carved_ them!"

"And?" Morgan asked.

"Well, gemstones are impossible to carve with such precision," Reid said; "even leaving out the fact that tools hard enough to do it simply don't exist, gemstones aren't easily shaped - the crystalline pattern of the molecules makes it very difficult to disrupt them, and when a scratch is forced, it's very easy for it to cause a chain reaction that breaks the molecular bonds further than desired, causing the stone to crack and completely ruining whatever pattern someone might be trying to carve." He looked at Lisbon. "That's why most gemstones are only faceted without much further carving; it's almost impossible to do even to a rough degree, and this…" He held up her earring. "…is…_impossible_."

"I say again," Lisbon said: "so is he."

"But why would he go to all that trouble?" JJ asked. "Why not just use jade, or grow the gems in molds or something?"

"Because he knows no one else could do it," Lisbon said, and suddenly, she understood. Her eyes widened. "That's why he does _any_ of the things he does - why he makes so many friends, why he taunts Jane, why he kidnapped and tortured me, why he made that instant-heal stuff and vision blockers and the Nightrider and a suit that's more bulletproof than kevlar and a knife that can turn metal into dust…it's why he does _anything_ - because he knows no one else can! He _loves_ being impossible!"

"He loves feeling superior to everyone around him," Morgan said, nodding; "everyone in the _world_, really."

"That still doesn't explain _how_ he made these," Reid said.

"Don't question it," Lisbon advised him. "Trust me, you don't want to go there, you'll drive yourself crazy."

"But-"

"_Trust_ _me_," Lisbon said; "I of all people should know."

Reid closed his mouth slowly, the nodded, conceding her point. He put the earring he had taken out back in its box and closed it. "Here," he said, handing it to her, "you can have these back…I mean, if you _want_ them…" He trailed off as he realized that she might _not_ want them.

But she took them. "Red John's or not, if these earrings are impossible, they're too valuable to toss," she said. "I hate him, but I'm not going to throw away valuable things just to make a point." And she pocketed the box.

"Thank you, Agent Lisbon," Hotch said. "We need some time to discuss-"

"Oh, of course!" Lisbon said quickly. "Do your thing. I'll be…uh…around." And she quickly walked away.

The BAU watched her go, only turning back to each other when she was out of sight.

For a long minute, no one said anything.

"Well," Morgan said at last, "this guy makes Foyet look…"

"…like nothing," Hotch finished. No one else had had the right to say it, but all of them had been thinking it.

"So…can we catch him?" Garcia asked, speaking for the first time since Jane had started telling the story of Red John's game with Lisbon's life as the stakes.

"We can make a profile of him, same as anyone else," Hotch said; "no matter how impossible he might seem, he's human, he lives in the world, and that means we can find him."

~o~

"Jane?"

Jane was roused from his stupor by the call and a knock on his door.

"Jane, please open the door." Knock knock knock.

Jane sighed. "Please go away," he said.

There was silence for a minute. Then, the door opened on its own; Jane had been too distraught to even think to lock it.

"Jane…"

He closed his eyes. "I don't want to talk to you," he said tonelessly.

He felt someone sit on his cot beside him.

"I know," Lisbon said, "but _I_ need to talk to _you_."

Jane shook his head, eyes still closed.

"Look…I'm sorry," Lisbon said. "I should have told you when Red John first called me, I realize that now. I just…didn't want to feel like I needed you, when it came to him."

"When it came to him…" Jane repeated.

Lisbon nodded. "Jane, I need you," she said. "You know I do. I need you, every day. I just…" She sighed. "I felt like…he was trying to push me back into needing you to babysit me," she told Jane; "like he was trying to break me again. I wanted to prove to him that he couldn't, that he couldn't hurt me anymore no matter what he did. I know it was stupid…I shouldn't have done any of it." She looked at him; his eyes were still closed. "Jane, I'm so sorry," she said tearfully. "I made a mistake."

"A mistake?" Jane asked, opening his eyes at last to look at her incredulously. "Lisbon, this has been going on for about a year now!"

"Okay, I _repeatedly_ made a mistake," Lisbon said; "the same mistake, over and over again, every night-"

"Did you really have fun at his parties?" Jane asked abruptly.

Lisbon blinked. "I…" She hesitated, trying to think of the best way to answer without making it sound like something it wasn't. "I didn't…_want_ to," she said at last; "but sometimes, I…I forgot who I was talking to, and when I forgot…yes, I had fun."

"How could you forget?" Jane demanded. "You were half-blind the whole time!"

"It's weird, being on vision blockers," Lisbon explained; "you can still look around and see stuff, sort of, it…you get used to it after an hour or so."

Jane nodded, not looking anywhere near her.

For several minutes, there was silence.

"Why are you here?" he finally asked.

"Because I need you to know that I didn't mean to betray you," Lisbon said, "and that I'm sorry for all of it. That wasn't what I intended, I…I wasn't thinking reasonably. I…I just…" She sighed. "I need you, Patrick Jane," she said. "You're my best friend…and I need you to know that, even though I've been talking to Red John behind your back, I'm on _your_ side - that's never changed, and it never will. You _can_ trust me - you don't need to second-guess yourself about that."

Jane sighed, closing his eyes again.

Lisbon didn't push him. She understood.

"I've told the BAU everything I know," she said at last, and it was mostly true; "they're putting together a profile right now. Maybe this will be the big break we need…Maybe they'll be able to make sense of all this and figure out who Red John is. Their profile can only be more accurate for the information I've managed to get since Red John started calling me." In other words, maybe it would turn out for the best that she had kept the secret - she didn't say it, but she hoped he would think it, or at least hear it in her voice.

"They aren't obligated to stay longer than they need to to come up with a profile," Jane said listlessly; "unless something comes up, they'll probably leave as soon as they give it to us."

"I doubt that," Lisbon said, smiling slightly in spite of herself. "They've heard some pretty crazy stuff since they got here - even that boy genius is dumbfounded-"

"Spencer," Jane said. "Doctor Spencer Reid."

"Right," Lisbon said, nodding. "Even he's dumbfounded by some of the things Red John can do. They aren't going anywhere until they get to the bottom of this."

"Well, let's hope that that doesn't take too long," Jane said.

Lisbon took a breath, then said, "Jane, you…you work really well with them."

He opened his eyes and looked at her, his expression unreadable.

"You're practically one of them," Lisbon went on. "All this time, I've been so hard on you for relying on guesswork rather than hard evidence, and all along, you've been using the same methods as one of the FBI's top teams." She smiled ironically. "The only reason you get in trouble is because you aren't _authorized_ to use those methods."

"Well, maybe I should join them," Jane said, and Lisbon couldn't tell if he was serious or not. "They're already impressed by how well I can manipulate their boss, and others…"

"I'm sure they'd love to have you," Lisbon said. "They'd…be lucky to have you." Why was her throat closing on her?

"I can't leave as long as Red John's here," Jane said. "But…maybe, if we do catch him with their help, I can join them when they fly back to Quantico."

Lisbon nodded. "That's their call," she said, "but…I wouldn't be surprised if they ask you to join them before they go. They really respect you."

"Yeah…" Jane said softly, almost to himself.

They waited there in silence for several long minutes. Neither of them wanted to talk or go anywhere - there was nothing else to do or say.

Finally, Rigsby came up and knocked on the open door. Lisbon and Jane looked at him.

"The, uh, the BAU has a profile," he told them; "they want you back downstairs."

Jane sat up. "Okay," he said, swinging his legs over the side of the cot. Lisbon stood up beside him without a word, and they both followed Rigsby back to where the BAU awaited them with their conclusions.


	8. Chapter 6

"We're looking for a white male in his early thirties to mid-forties," Hotch began; "to be more precise, it's most likely that the man we're searching for is thirty-three years old, but that's not a given."

"That would make him eighteen back in ninety-eight," Rigsby commented, "right around when he started killing."

"That's correct," Hotch said, nodding, "but again, we can't be completely sure of it."

"He's extremely intelligent, and he has the credentials to show it," Reid picked up; "it's highly likely that he has multiple doctorate degrees, as well as several other, lower-level degrees, ranging across a wide variety of subjects. This allows him to assert his intelligence without excessive bragging or potentially coming across as arrogant."

"He's proud, extremely analytical, and highly organized," Morgan said; "in any given situation, he considers multiple possible outcomes and makes plans for all of them. He is very adverse to making any sort of mistakes, and in the event that he does, he will do everything in his power to rectify it."

"He's highly overqualified for any occupation you could care to name, but whatever he does for a living, _he_ is in charge," JJ stated; "he's probably part of a large corporation, and everyone in it answers to him. He is _not_ a _tyrannical_ boss, however - any of his employees, if asked, would say that they are extremely fortunate and glad to work for him."

"It's likely that whatever business he runs is also part of a keystone of society - something almost everyone depends on to some extent, directly or indirectly," Hotch added; "he gets a great deal of enjoyment out of knowing that if he stops doing his job - or, for that matter, is taken out - almost everyone will suffer for it. The most likely occupations are those such as a bank director or an oil company tycoon."

"He doesn't like to think of himself as human, and he distances himself from all his human qualities as much as he can," Rossi said. "Many things about life that most people take for granted or consider to be common sense may seem illogical or irrational in his eyes; whether this is a conscious decision on his part or genuinely how he naturally sees the world is impossible to determine but irrelevant. He will _follow_ social protocol, so as to maintain his social status, but he may occasionally make remarks challenging or questioning common societal conventions."

"This includes money," Morgan said. "He's extremely wealthy, but money holds no value to him in and of itself - he amasses it only for the social status and power over others that it gives him. As a result, he is well-known for his generosity - he will donate large amounts of money to various charitable organizations frequently, the reason being this leads people to look up to and respect and admire him, with essentially no sacrifice on his part as far as he's concerned."

"Often times, when a serial killer is tracked down, people who knew them personally will remark that they never would have suspected the person of being a killer," JJ said; "Red John takes this several steps further. He values integrity and self-control very highly, and any form of anger or dishonesty on his part would be unfathomable to people who don't know his secret - everyone who knows him socially will be _adamant_ that he would _literally_ never hurt a fly, let alone be a serial killer."

"Sometimes serial killers will alter their personalities depending on who they're talking to during their day-to-day lives so that they'll blend in," Morgan said; "Red John does the opposite. He _will_ stand out, he _will_ make an impression, he _will_ make sure people see him and know him, wherever he goes. While he makes sure he's noticed, however, he strives to ensure that the impression he makes is an admirable one, an unchanging personality that no one could dislike or disrespect no matter what sort of person they might be otherwise - model citizen, model human being."

"He is single," JJ stated, "that is a given. He has never been married, never been involved in any form of courtship, at least not publicly. He's extremely attractive - probably not just in terms of money - and has likely been pursued by many, but he rejects every woman who approaches him as politely as he can."

"As with money, he has no regard for material possessions, save for those he makes with his own two hands," Hotch said; "this includes not only his various tools of murder but also the group of people he calls his friends."

"He gives anyone important to him a nickname, typically beginning with the word 'my' followed by two adjectives and a noun in that order," Morgan added. "In his mind, the 'my' indicates possession - that he is a part of their lives, and vice versa, _forever_, come what may. However, he's careful to use it in such a way that it comes across to whoever he's addressing as a term of affection, establishing a rapport and raising them up slightly, closer to his level - this makes them feel flattered, which makes them that much more willing to do as he says."

"Unlike most narcissists or power junkies, Red John takes equal amounts of pleasure in both the power to take away _and_ the power to give," Reid went on; "the numerous people who constitute his 'friends' have indicated that they all feel that they owe their lives to him, and that makes him feel just as powerful and in control of the people around him as ending lives does."

"He gets off on the pain and fear of his victims in the moments leading up to their deaths, but more than that, he derives a great deal of pleasure from the knowledge that he is ending the existence of a unique individual with a life, a story, a family, hopes, dreams, ideas - someone who has never existed before and will never exist again," Hotch said. "However, this alone becomes less thrilling - even counting evading capture - as time goes on; therefore, he seeks a purpose in life, a mission, worthy of his intellect and resources. Based on what Agent Lisbon was able to tell us, it's extremely likely that that mission used to come in the form of expanding his circle of 'friends' - he would attempt to feel fulfilled, as though he was accomplishing something only he could do, by nurturing perfectly ordinary people who can know his secret and would still kill and die for him."

"But he stopped making friends after Jane…" Lisbon said, trailing off.

Hotch nodded, then turned to Jane. "Yes," he said. "In his eyes, Mr. Jane, you have committed the ultimate trespass against him: disrespect. You belittled his name and status with words both he and you knew were lies, and you did it on live television in front of thousands of people. It's likely that this drove him into a frenzy so extreme he may have even been surprised by it himself." He hesitated, then said gravely, "He will not stop hating you, ever. To him, no amount of suffering can ever suffice as retribution for what you did."

"More than that, though, hating you gives him a purpose in life," Rossi added. "A mission, which he can continuously pursue and fulfill for the rest of his days - and yours - and from which he will never cease deriving pleasure and satisfaction. As a result of this, the frustration that typically follows from highly capable serial killers getting tired of what they perceive as a lack of a challenge, which can lead to mental degradation that can then lead to mistakes and eventual capture, will not afflict him."

"So hating me stabilizes his brain?" Jane asked.

"In Layman's terms, yes," Hotch said, nodding.

"Well," Jane said sarcastically, "isn't that just fantastic?"

"He lacks a conscience, but he also lacks any regard or respect for cultural values," Reid said; "he is fully aware that he has no conscience, and is even proud of it. This is extremely unusual-"

"You mean 'unheard of'," Lisbon muttered.

"-and means that he is completely free of the sort of subconscious mental struggle which can also lead to mental degradation and eventual capture. Essentially, he could go on living his life as he does now…" Reid shrugged. "…forever."

Lisbon bit back her protest; it wasn't important, really, that Red John _did_ have a conscience, albeit a twisted one. The point was, he wouldn't break down and start making mistakes, and that was no less true for the actual reality behind it.

"He likes knowing that he's more intelligent and capable than anyone else," JJ said, "and he proves it by leaving obscure clues or chances that could get him caught but which he knows no one will ever see. There _may_ be something about him that could lead us to him that we know of but just haven't thought of as significant." She shrugged. "What that might be, though, we can't say."

There was a pause. Then Hotch said, "Garcia? Tell them what you've got."

"Okay," Garcia said, quickly doing something on her computer, "I thought about what Agent Lisbon and Patrick Jane said about Red John being able to monitor the entirety of CBI headquarters and probably other places without using bugs, and I figured that, even wirelessly, any form of surveillance has to be transmitted by some form of signal, right? So I started searching for various wavelengths of radio waves or other waves that can't be explained by anything that's doing what it's supposed to."

"And?" Jane asked.

"At first, I came up with bupkiss, but then I thought about how Red John loves to be impossible and do impossible things," Garcia went on; "so, I started casting a wider net, looking for pretty much any wavelength of energy known to the universe, at least that I can detect with what I've got. Again, nothing at first, but I had to push these babies to their limit, and after a minute, I found a signal that's…" Her fingers stopped, her expression unreadable. "…odd," she finished.

"Odd how?" Rigsby asked.

"It's…not used for anything," Garcia answered. "I mean, _anything_."

"Can you jam it?" Morgan asked.

"Oh, honey, you have no idea how difficult it is to even _detect_ it," Garcia said; "I can barely even confirm it's there, never mind interfere with it."

"But Red John _is_ watching?" Jane half-asked.

"Yeah, I think it's pretty safe to assume that he is," Garcia said.

"Which means he knows we're helping you with this case," Hotch said.

Everyone turned to him. He shook his head slightly.

"He's not going to let us walk away," he said gravely; "if we try to go back to Quantico, he'll come after us, or, more likely, send someone else after us in his place." He looked at Jane and Lisbon. "We're in this for the long haul," he said.

Lisbon nodded. "I'm glad you realize that," was all she could say.

~o~

Red John leaned back in his seat, raised his hands, and slowly applauded.

"Bravo," he drawled. "As accurate as it's possible to be, considering you think I'm human…Well played." After hearing the BAU's profile of him, he felt something that only Teresa had ever made him feel before: impressed. It really _was_ impressive just how accurate they were, he couldn't deny it.

He had altered his surveillance wavelength so Garcia could detect it, if barely, and he was glad the BAU understood what it meant. They were part of this, now, and they couldn't back out.

They would pay. They, and his Old Friend, would pay in blood for this profile. He would make sure of it.

~o~

"I have a question," Rigsby said.

"Yes?" Hotch asked, and everyone turned to him.

"You said that Red John doesn't make mistakes, or if he does, he corrects it," Rigsby said; "does that mean we can't get any evidence at all that he doesn't want us to have?"

The BAU exchanged a few glances.

"Possibly," Reid finally said slowly.

"What do you mean, 'possibly'?" Jane asked sharply.

"Well…" Reid hesitated, then stood and walked over to one of the two repacked boxes. Everyone watched him pull out a single photograph.

He turned to Jane. "Mr. Jane, do you remember this?" he asked, handing him the photo.

Jane took it. It was of some writing on a tile wall…written in blood.

"Jared Renfrew," he said. "Shared a cell with an early accomplice of Red John, promised to tell me everything he knew if I proved he was innocent of the crime he was in jail for; I got him out, he ran at the first chance he got, and Red John got to him before I did and killed him…and a hooker on the side," he added with a shrug. "Yes, I remember." He looked up. "I have no idea what the writing means, though."

Reid took the photo back and clipped it up on the drawing board. "Jared Renfrew knew Red John's identity," he said. "As he was dying, it may have occurred to him that, if Red John could find him, so could you." He turned to Jane. "He may have been trying to keep his promise."

"But Red John wouldn't let Jared live long enough to do that," Lisbon said.

"You headed for Renfrew the moment you knew where he was, very shortly after he called Mr. Jane's cell phone, yes?" Morgan asked.

"Yes," Lisbon said, nodding.

"Red John probably knew you were coming as fast as you could," Hotch said; "he didn't have any time to spare."

"For him, making sure his victims suffered enough and leaving his signature mark would be more important than seeing the whole scene through - he would have tended to those things first, and, if he felt pressured, he might have left as soon as they had been achieved," Reid said.

"So he might have left before Jared Renfrew actually died," Lisbon realized out loud, her eyes wide.

"And there was no way for Red John to wipe out, or even _know_ about, the writing on the wall before we found it and took a picture," Jane said.

Everyone looked at the picture clipped to the board with new intensity.

"So…what exactly does all of this mean?" Van Pelt asked.

"Well, worst-case scenario, Red John left us a red herring," Hotch said. "_Best_-case scenario…"

"We have the beginning of Red John's real name," Jane finished, and he smiled.


	9. Chapter 7

"How likely is it that Red John left that writing?" Lisbon asked.

"Extremely unlikely," Reid said, walking over to the picture again to explain. "You see that blood smear below the bottom right-hand corner of the 'M'?" he asked, pointing.

"Yeah," Lisbon said, squinting at it.

"It's consistent with whoever was trying to write in blood lifting their finger off the tile to end the letter, then slowly beginning to lose consciousness so that their finger fell back onto the tile and dragged a short distance before the writer forced themselves awake again to continue writing," Reid explained, demonstrating as he spoke.

"In other words, with Jared clinging to life as long as he could to try to tell me what he knew," Jane said.

Reid nodded. "Exactly."

"Couldn't Red John have just faked it?" Cho asked.

Reid squinted at the picture. "If he did, it's _very_ well-done," he said; "I can't see any indication that it's anything other than what it appears to be."

"So we can assume that Jared wrote this, knowing it was his only chance to tell Jane who Red John was without Red John himself being able to do anything about it," Lisbon said.

"And that means we can assume that he was trying to tell Jane the most important piece of information he had in as few letters as he could," Rossi said.

"Red John's real name," Jane concluded, nodding.

Everyone stared at the picture with new eyes:

**He is Ma[?]**

"What's that third letter?" Van Pelt asked. "'n'? 'r'?"

"Could be an 'r'," Reid muttered.

"'He is Mar-'", Jane said. "Could be Mark, Martin, Marcus…"

"It would be ironic if his name is Mark," Rossi commented.

"Yes it would," Jane said, half to himself.

"Why?" Lisbon asked, confused.

"Oh, nothing," Jane said; "long story. Not important right now."

"Maybe Renfrew didn't actually know Red John's name," Rigsby suggested. "Maybe he only knew something _about_ him, - like, maybe he's trying to say Red John is _married_ _to_ someone whose name he knows."

"No," Hotch said, "remember the profile. He's single."

"Well, the profile isn't guaranteed to be right, right?" Rigsby said.

Hotch turned his expressionless face on Rigsby. "Agent Rigsby, profiling may not be an exact science, but based on what we know, I feel confident in saying that, whoever Red John is in his day-to-day life, he is single," he told Rigsby in a tone that left no room for debate.

"Okay," Rigsby said lightly; "just a thought."

"It _is_ good to try to keep an open mind," Hotch said, "but in this case, I think we can safely dismiss that idea."

"The profile also says that there might be something that could lead us to him that's just common knowledge about him, though, right?" Van Pelt asked.

"There _might_ be," Rossi said; "but we shouldn't depend on that."

"_If_ there is," Van Pelt said, "what would it be? Like, how could we recognize it?"

"It would most likely be something that doesn't quite fit with his profile," JJ said; "something that seems off, even slightly. It would also have to be something known about him before Mr. Jane joined the investigation, something that's been there from the very beginning - part of his enjoyment of tormenting Jane may come from blinding Jane to a clue he might see if he could think about it rationally. Er, no offense," JJ added.

"None taken," Jane reassured her.

"Well, that doesn't leave much," Van Pelt commented.

"So, first of all, what _is_ there that's been there from the very beginning?" Lisbon asked.

Three things came to everyone's mind:

"His name, his signature, and the pattern of the knife wounds he inflicts on his victims," Cho said.

"The injuries Red John inflicts on his victims are arranged in such a way as to cause maximum suffering without damaging a large blood vessel and causing the victim to die quickly," Reid said.

"That fits with the profile," JJ said.

"His signature's kind of silly," Rigsby said.

"In his mind, there's no need for elaborate designs, though," Hotch said.

"The way the eyes are curved suggests an expression of extreme pleasure, and the eye on the right-hand side is open in such a way as to seem possibly ambiguous - it's not difficult to not notice that it _is_ open, and when viewed as though it is, it displays a wink, while, without, it expresses joy," Reid said.

"I think we can safely say that fits the profile," Lisbon said.

"So that leaves his name," Hotch said.

"But I _asked_ him about his name," Lisbon said, exasperated. "He thinks red is the color of death, and the name 'John' means 'gift from god'."

Reid frowned. "But that doesn't make sense," he said. "I mean, the red thing makes sense, but the other part doesn't fit with the profile at all."

"Agent Lisbon, did Red John directly say that the meaning of the word 'John' is the reason _why_ he chose that part of his name?" Morgan asked.

Lisbon blinked. "No," she realized out loud. "He just said, 'Did you know etc.'. I…I can't believe I didn't think of that!" She could have kicked herself. She _knew_ that Red John's choice of words was _always_ important, but she had completely overlooked that particular ambiguous answer!

"He distracted you," Rossi said, "made you forget your question."

"Because the name 'John' means something that could lead us to him," Jane said.

"Okay," JJ said, "in that case, what _does_ it mean?"

There was silence for a minute. Then, suddenly, Jane's eyes widened. He looked around at everyone, then snapped his fingers, getting everyone's attention.

"Quick," he said, "what does the name 'John' mean apart from being a personal name?"

"Uh…a guy with a hooker is called a john," Rigsby said.

"Okay, yes, that's true," Jane said impatiently. "What else?"

"Male body we can't ID is called 'John Doe'," Lisbon said.

Jane pointed at her and grinned. "_Exactly_," he said. Without any further explanation, he walked past Lisbon and around his desk to stand next to Garcia. "Penny, can you run a query for the names of all California state residents?" he asked her.

"Give me a question and I will have your answer," Garcia said, typing faster than the wind.

"No, just bring up a searchable list of all the names, I'll run the query myself, if you don't mind," Jane said.

"Uh…" Garcia hesitated, then sat back, allowing Jane to access the keyboard. "Sure. Go ahead."

Grinning, Jane leaned in and put his hands on the keyboard, saying what he was typing under his breath as he tested his theory.

"M-A-R-asterisk-space-D-O-E," he said, and he hit enter.

"You're looking for someone in the state of California whose name starts with 'M-A-R' and whose last name is '_Doe_'?" Lisbon asked incredulously. "That's not even a real last name!"

"Technically, it could be," Reid said, "but it _is_ unlikely that your search will get any results."

"But if it _does_, it'll be Red John," Jane said eagerly, straightening. Garcia sat forward again, watching the query run.

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Okay," she said, turning back to the other agents, "what else could the name 'John' mean?"

"Oh, come on, Lisbon," Jane said, walking over to her, "have a little faith, will you?"

"Jane, I realize you're desperate, but let's try to think rationally here," Lisbon began.

Garcia's computer made a noise, indicating it had finished running the query. Garcia's eyes widened.

"Guys?"

Her tone seized the attention of everyone in the room. She was staring at her computer screen in total astonishment.

"There's a hit," she said faintly.

"No way!" Lisbon exclaimed, and everyone got up at once and ran behind Jane's desk, crowding together to see what Garcia was seeing.

Sure enough, there was one match.

"Dr. Mark Doe," Garcia read off, "local oil company tycoon, age thirty-three."

"Oh. My. God," Lisbon said.

"How can that be someone's actual last name?!" Van Pelt asked.

Garcia did something.

"It's not the name on his birth certificate," she said; "apparently, he had it legally changed when he was eighteen…shortly after the…tragic deaths of his parents."

"Was he adopted at birth?" Lisbon asked sharply.

Garcia did something else. "Yep," she answered. "In fact, he - oh my god." Her fingers, which had been flying across her keyboard, froze.

"What?" Lisbon asked.

Garcia wordlessly brought up a digital copy of a newspaper article dated 1980.

"'Mutilated Couple Found, Newborn Survives'," Lisbon read, her horror growing with every word. "'On June sixth, two bodies were found on the outskirts of San Francisco, one male, one female. They were mutilated beyond recognition, their fingers and faces shredded, apparently to prevent identification. The female corpse was approximately nine months pregnant at the time of her death, and the unborn child was unharmed and birthed via a Caesarian section at the crime scene; DNA testing later confirmed that the male DB was the boy's father. The newborn boy was found to be surprisingly healthy considering the injuries inflicted on his mother, and was named 'Mark', after the brother of one of the first responders who helped save the baby."

Garcia forced her fingers to move again, and she dug a bit deeper. "The boy was put up for adoption, birth parents were buried without ceremony in downtown San Francisco, there were no witnesses, no suspects, case was never solved, they remain Jane Doe and John Doe to this day," she told everyone.

Lisbon's wide eyes blinked. "Jane," she said.

"Yeah?" Jane asked, looking at her.

"Do you remember when you had to choose between saving me and killing him, and I was trying to convince you to kill him?" she asked.

"Yes, Lisbon, I remember," Jane said, eyebrows raised.

"I said that Red John needed to die before he was even born," Lisbon remembered out loud, "and he said that that was ironic because he nearly _did_. I didn't think much of it at the time, but-"

"Neither did I," Jane said, "but that's one more strike against Dr. Doe." He turned back to the screen. "More, Penny," he said.

Garcia typed. "He was quickly adopted by the Marshgood family," she told everyone. "Mr. and Mrs. Marshgood were unable to have children of their own, they heard about the tragedy and wanted to raise the baby themselves. Not _quite_ what you'd call _rich_, but wealthy enough to live in comfort even in times of economic downturn."

"Did they have a cat?" Lisbon asked.

Garcia's fingers scuttled away. "Yep," she answered, "female calico cat, four years old, named Rita, was put down when little Mark was two years old, reason cited was excessive hostility towards the boy."

"Strike two," Jane commented.

"Of how many?" Lisbon asked, afraid to find out the answer.

"Whoa," Garcia said.

"What?" asked Hotch.

"Uh…boy genius…you've been out-nerded," Garcia said.

"He has more than one doctorate, the profile already said that," Reid said.

"He has _five_," Garcia said faintly; "_and_ fifty-two master's degrees, _and_ a hundred and forty-three bachelor's degrees."

"Wow," Jane said, "degrees in an even two hundred subjects."

Lisbon closed her eyes and turned away. "Wait, don't tell me what his doctorates are in, let me guess," she said. "Psychology?"

"Yep," said Garcia.

"Biochemistry?"

"Yep."

"Anatomy?"

"Yep."

"Mechanical engineering?"

"Yep."

"Hmm…" Lisbon hesitated.

"Sociology, maybe?" Rigsby suggested.

"No," Lisbon said.

"Nope," Garcia confirmed.

Lisbon thought for a minute. Then, she smiled.

"English," she said.

"Ding ding ding, five for five," Garcia said.

Lisbon turned back around and pressed herself back against the left-hand side of the group clustered around Garcia's monitors. "The things he loves showing off his mastery of most," she smirked; "he can even do it by shoving a doctorate in people's faces."

"Yeah, uh, okay, but this is just freaky," Garcia said: "He has a registered I.Q. of two hundred and fifty."

"What?" Reid exclaimed. "Garcia, that doesn't even make sense!"

"Yeah, doesn't the I.Q. scale only go up to, like, two hundred?" Rigsby asked.

"Sorry, but that's the official number," Garcia said; "I am telling you only what I am seeing and nothing else." She typed something quickly. "Okay, apparently there's a footnote about that," she said, sounding half-relieved. "When little Mark Marshgood was first tested, not only was he able to answer every question and solve every puzzle in no more time than physically required for him to perform the actions, but, when relevant, his answers were extremely detailed and displayed a comprehensive intelligence far beyond anything ever seen by any I.Q. tester in history. Some officials met and discussed it, blah blah blah, finally they figured to just give him a really high number and leave it at that because they had no idea what else to do."

"So, wait a minute, let me see if I've got this straight," Lisbon said: "He _broke_ the goddamn I.Q. scale?"

"Uh, pretty much, yeah," Garcia said.

Lisbon actually chuckled in spite of herself. "Why am I not surprised?" Because she wasn't, not really - it was the sort of thing she had learned to expect of Red John, so characteristically him that she might as well have known it all along.

"How was this kid not all over the news?" Reid asked.

Garcia typed.

"Apparently, his adopted parents paid some people off to not look into it, demanded a few court orders keeping researchers and psychologists off his back - stretched their finances but didn't bankrupt them, Mrs. Marshgood declared that she wanted her son to live as normal a life as possible and not be treated like a freak wherever he went."

"Well, so much for that now," Lisbon muttered.

"Apparently, he jumped straight to the twelfth grade after he was tested, his parents insisted that he at least get a high school diploma…"

"How old was he?" Hotch asked.

"Eight," Garcia answered. "He graduated with high honors a year later."

"Wow," Morgan said; "Reid, this guy makes you look almost normal."

"Never thought I'd feel inferior in intellect like this," Reid commented.

"I'm curious, was he ever abused or beat up in high school?" Jane asked.

Garcia dug.

"Nope," she answered; "apparently no one ever bullied him. All of his teachers gave multiple reports of him being so incredibly polite and smart, blah blah blah, a few of them indicated that it sometimes seemed as though the other students were afraid of Mark, but they never looked into it because he seemed like such a nice little boy to them."

"Doesn't matter how big you are; if you're smart enough and know the human body well enough, you can beat up someone three times your size," Lisbon said dryly. "I'm sure he was terrorizing the halls despite his age."

"Guess so," Garcia said.

"Did he grow up knowing where he came from?" JJ asked.

Clickclickclickclickclick. "Uh, no, I don't think so," Garcia said. "He started asking to legally change his last name to 'Doe' shortly after he graduated from high school, though…his parents always fought it in court, court always took the parents' side…"

"The only thing he ever asked for out of vanity," Lisbon recited.

"Strike three," Jane commented.

"You mean strike three hundred," Lisbon muttered.

"Oh, okay, here we go," Garcia said suddenly: "Mark's parents wanted him to grow up without knowing his gorey, horrific origins, but before he went off to college at age ten, they figured it was time, his age not withstanding, and he immediately started trying to file for a name change after that and pursued it for the next eight years. He claimed that the name was rightfully his, that it described who he was and where he came from and he wanted it; his mother argued that it wasn't healthy for him to distance himself from his family and the world like that, court consistently took the mother's side through the years."

"The mother was the dominant member of the relationship between his parents," Lisbon commented.

"Strike four," Jane said.

"Okay, seriously, keeping track is pointless," Lisbon said, holding a hand up to stop him.

"Penny, keep going," Jane urged.

"Okay," she said. "August first, nineteen ninety-eight, Mrs. Marshgood is found brutally murdered in her home, multiple stab wounds - nasty ones, too - husband turned up dead less than twenty-four hours later, hanging from a rope tied to a banister on the floor above, only suicide note found said, 'I'm sorry'. Testimony from the son described the recent deterioration of the marriage, evidence is consistent with Mark's story as far as anyone looking into the deaths of the Marshgoods could tell, case declared murder/suicide and closed. Mark filed for a name change a day later, saying he wanted to leave the tragedy behind him, and with no mother to object, the court finally gave him what he wanted, and he became legally known as 'Mark Doe'."

"Consistent with what we know, across the board," Lisbon commented. She looked at Jane. "How many strikes is that?" she asked, almost teasingly.

"Uh, more than I managed to count," Jane said.

"Mark Doe attended colleges all over the world, often pursuing degrees in several colleges at a time," Garcia said; "if he really is Red John, then _wow_, he had to work hard to make time to make that name for himself."

"He can answer any question in no more time than it takes to physically give it," Lisbon said, "and he can probably read a thousand-page textbook in twenty seconds. No amount of schoolwork could possibly swamp him - he'd make time _easily_."

"Yeah, and he _swept_ through all his courses with flying colors," Garcia added. "I kid you not, he was earning dozens of degrees a year for a few years, got two hundred different bachelor's degrees first, dropped a hundred and forty-three of the subjects to pursue master's degrees in the rest…"

"Why would he even bother with it all?" Van Pelt asked.

"So he could have indisputable evidence to prove his intelligence to anyone who might doubt him," Morgan answered.

"Also probably to have an excuse to go through the textbooks," Lisbon added; "he likes knowing things - knowledge is power."

"Did he ever say that to you?" Reid asked.

"More or less," Lisbon replied.

"Okay, after a few years and he got all his master's degrees, he came back to the state of California for good and set up an oil company that quickly skyrocketed and earned him millions fast, while at the same time working for his five doctorates. When asked why he was in charge of a business he was so overqualified for, he said that he wanted to be part of something everyone needed, and also, he had a wealth of knowledge, now he wanted financial wealth, just to see what it's like."

"Freak," Lisbon muttered.

"Yeah, you are not kidding, sister," Garcia said. "His current address is…unlisted."

"Okay, this guy fits the profile _and_ Lisbon's stories perfectly," Rossi said, "but it's almost a little _too_ perfect. Remember he usually has plans for almost every possible scenario."

"You think he's framing someone?" Hotch asked.

"It's unlikely, but worth looking into," Rossi said.

"Penny, get a recent photo of him, please," Jane said.

"Roger that," Garcia replied, typing away furiously.

"What will a picture tell you?" Morgan asked Jane; "you've never seen his face, have you?"

"No, and it's a lot harder to read someone in a photo than if they're standing right in front of me, but if he's really as evil as he's made himself out to be, even in a photo, there should be some sign of it," Jane said.

"You knew my life story by looking in my eyes in person, I'm sure you'll be able to tell if someone's a monster by looking at a picture," Reid commented.

And then Garcia pulled up a picture, and Lisbon actually gasped - the man in the photo was incredibly handsome: Dark hair, short but not too short; smooth, flawless skin, lightly tanned; angular face; delicate features…He looked like a prince.

"Wow," JJ said, blinking.

"It's him," Jane said.

Everyone turned to him. "You're sure?" Hotch asked.

"I can't make out any details," Jane said, "but there is definitely something dark behind his eyes; between that and the rest of the evidence, I think it's safe to say that Doctor Mark Doe is Red John."

He had him. Jane almost couldn't believe it. How many years had he spent fighting for this moment? How much suffering had he been forced through, and how many people had been caught in the crossfire? And now…now he had him. He had a face and a real name, and what was more, he had the FBI with him to help him take him down.

"We'll need an arrest warrant for Dr. Doe," Hotch said.

"No, that'd take too much time," Jane said. "We need to find out where he is right now, and we can't make any mistakes - we have one shot at this."

"Uh, I don't know exactly where he lives," Garcia said.

"Penny, try looking up real estate, properties belonging to, ah, Dr. Doe," Jane said.

Garcia's fingers scuttled across her keyboard.

"What are you hoping for?" Lisbon asked.

"Well," Jane said, "either the search won't turn up _any_ results, or, more likely…"

"Whoa!" Garcia exclaimed.

Jane grinned. "How many, Penny?" he asked, not looking.

"Twenty-four," Garcia replied faintly.

Jane nodded. "Twenty-three of those are dummy houses," he said with certainty; "only one is his actual residence. If we go to one of the wrong places first, he'll disappear underground, and we'll never find him."

"So, which is the most expensive?" Rigsby asked. "Like, what's the most palace-like building?"

"Oh god, there are so many mansions belonging to this guy," Garcia said, searching frantically.

"It's not going to be one of his mansions," Jane said; "remember, wealth and splendor mean nothing to him - what matters is effectiveness." He turned to Garcia. "Penny, look for any property worth _under_ fifty grand - some place that's small and pretty much worthless, maybe that he could claim to keep for sentimental reasons."

Garcia typed.

"One match," she said, turning to Jane. "A cabin on the outskirts of Sacramento. It's belonged to the Marshgoods for several generations."

Jane grinned as he read the address. "That's where he is," he said.

His phone beeped. He took it out, looked at it…then pocketed it and ran out of the room, headed for the elevators, leaving everyone staring after him bewilderedly.

"What was that about?" Van Pelt asked.

"Hang on," Garcia said. "What's his cell phone number?"

Lisbon told her. A minute later, she pulled up the latest text message to be sent to Jane's phone:

**Well played, Old Friend. Now, catch me if you can!**

Everyone stared at it for a minute. Then, Lisbon quickly ran after Jane. Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt hesitated only a moment before following her, leaving only the BAU to watch what was about to unfold from afar.


	10. Chapter 8

As soon as he was in his car, Jane's phone rang. He picked it up, knowing full well who was calling.

"Hey, Mark," he said into the phone as he sped out of the parking lot and onto the road. He felt like he was flying, and he was even able to smile and sound friendly as he greeted his nemesis.

Mark Doe, a.k.a. Red John, laughed. "Hello, Old Friend," he said, almost fondly. "You finally found me. Well played." Jane heard something that sounded like a single person applauding over the phone.

"Not on my own," Jane said modestly.

"Yes, you asked for outside help…I confess, I never thought you'd do that," Red John drawled. "All the same, you've found me fair and square. That text I sent you was a little joke, really; I'm not going anywhere. You've earned this, o foolish old friend of mine, and it would be highly dishonorable for me to run."

"You'd rather die than flee?" Jane asked.

"In this case, absolutely," Red John replied. "You know how highly I value integrity, Old Friend."

"Enough that you'd gladly spend the rest of your life punishing me for insulting you," Jane said; "yeah, I know."

"_Insulting_ me?" Red John repeated angrily. "You _slandered_ me! You disgraced my name, my work, my image, everything I stand for, and for what? Money and the cheers of a crowd! You disgusting little worm - your very existence sickens me! I hate you! I despise you beyond words!"

"Yeah, I hate you too," Jane said, half smiling at being able to push Red John's buttons for a change.

Red John growled in disgust. "That Saint Teresa would give her heart to _you_ is abhorrent!" he snarled. "Someone as extraordinary as her, with her heart in _your_ pocket…Of all the stupid, miserable little lowlifes for her to-"

"Oh, you're one to talk," Jane commented.

"I am not a lowlife!" Red John shouted. "_I_ am a _monster_! I am a living nightmare! I am far smarter and more powerful than anyone who has ever existed, and you know now that I'm not exaggerating! Don't you _dare_ compare me to you, you stupid, ignorant piece of _scum_!"

"You're full of yourself," Jane said calmly, no longer affected by Red John's taunting now that he was minutes away from ending this fight. "I don't believe half of that stuff about you - you can hack official records easily, you probably did all that just to make yourself look like more than you are. How else would you not be all over the media?"

But to Jane's surprise, Red John suddenly laughed. "Your doubts will be banished when you look into my eyes," he said wickedly. "As soon as you see me, read me…you'll know. You'll know _exactly_ what I am - your gift will make sure of it. And you'll never be the same…" More laughter.

"We'll see about that," Jane said lightly. He was speeding down the highway now, headed for Red John's out-of-the-way home as fast as he could go.

"Yes we will," Red John said mockingly. "You know, even My Dear Little Saint Teresa isn't quite the same since I told her the full truth…Oh, wait, she hid that particular bit from you and your new special agent friends."

Jane said nothing, but his chest constricted slightly. Lisbon had been keeping _more_ secrets?

Red John chuckled. "No doubt she thought the truth would break you," he taunted. "It probably would have, too. She only kept that bit from you to keep your stupid little psyche intact-"

"Shut up!" Jane snarled.

"Is that really the best comeback you can come up with?" Red John asked.

"Why are we talking about Lisbon?" Jane demanded.

"Because I love her," Red John replied, "and _she_ loves _you_, and _you_ are about to kill _me_. Nice little circle, isn't it?"

"You're not capable of love!" Jane exclaimed.

"I used to believe the same," Red John said, a smile in his voice. "Then _she_ happened to me."

Jane shook his head, but had no words.

"Oh, speaking of sweet Teresa, she's trying to call you right now," Red John said after a moment. "Hold on a minute, I'll let her through."

"What-?" Jane began, bewildered.

"Jane?" Lisbon's voice asked over the phone. "Are you there?"

"Yeah…" Jane said.

"We're right behind you," Lisbon said; "when you get there, _wait_ _for_ _us_."

"Why?" Jane asked.

"Because I have as much right to see this as you do," Lisbon replied.

"She _is_ right, you know," Red John commented.

"Red John?" Lisbon's voice was confused.

"Hello, My Dear, I'll see you soon," Red John said; "bye for now."

"Lisbon?" Jane asked.

"I hung her up," Red John told Jane. "Now it's just you and me, until you get here."

"How are you…?" Jane couldn't even put his question into words.

"Picking up and hanging up your phone for you?" Red John asked. "Wouldn't you like to know…"

"You know what? I don't care," Jane said; "I'm going to kill you soon anyway, so it really doesn't matter."

"Come and get me, then," Red John hissed, and then he hung up.

Jane tossed his phone aside without a single glance; none of what Red John had said mattered anymore - all that mattered was blood and revenge for his family.

~o~

As the BAU listened in on Jane's phone conversation via Garcia's computers, they tried to figure out the purpose of it all.

"It's almost like he _wants_ to die," JJ said.

"But that doesn't make any sense," Reid said, frowning.

"Unless he feels that he has something to gain by dying," Hotch said. "His mission in life is to make Mr. Jane's life as miserable as possible…"

"And if Jane kills him, he'll be guilty of first-degree murder," Rossi picked up.

"Jane'll go to jail for the rest of his life," Morgan realized out loud; "his life will be _over_."

"And there's no way in which Red John would rather die than by making that happen," Hotch said.

"Garcia, jam his signal!" Morgan said urgently.

Garcia tried. "I can't, it's too strong," she said, sounding alarmed.

"Too _strong_?" Reid repeated, confused.

"We need to reach him, to warn him," Rossi said.

"JJ, go talk to Director Bertram _now_," Hotch ordered JJ; "have them get an arrest warrant and send some blue-collar cops out to Mark Doe's cabin as quickly as possible!"

"Yes, sir!" JJ said, and she ran off.

Garcia was still trying to block Red John's signal, get through to Jane, do _something_, but all to no avail.

Then Red John hung up on Jane.

"Now's our chance," Rossi said.

Garcia typed, trying to call Jane.

"I can't, his phone's still busy," she said.

"But Red John hung up," Reid said.

"Yes, I know, but I…I can't get through, I…Hang on!" she exclaimed suddenly. "Why is this recording the call? I didn't do anything to make it record that call!"

"It's going to record a lot more than that, little Penelope," said an evil voice.

"Red John," Hotch said, closing his eyes as understanding hit him and his team.

"The one and only," Red John's voice replied proudly. "You won't be talking to my Old Friend anymore - not until after he's placed under arrest. Oh, and thank you _ever_ so much for sending Agent Jeroe to get some regular police officers out here, I really do appreciate it." His tone was smug, mocking.

"What's your plan?" Rossi asked.

"My Old Friend is going to murder me," Red John answered, "and it will be _your_ computers, little Penelope, that will record the damning evidence to prove it. You'll be legally obligated to provide it in court - you _are_ one of the FBI's top teams, after all. Oh, and I looked into The Reaper, Aaron Hotchner - The _Boston_ Reaper - and I must say, he wasn't too bad at what he did. He was just too confident; you got off on self-defense claims that were perfectly reasonable, and that was the end of him. Shame, really…He had such…potential…" Red John laughed. "For a _hu__man_, that is," he added nastily.

Garcia started trying to type something.

"Don't bother, Penelope," Red John said amusedly; "your technology is under my control now. You can do nothing but listen helplessly to my Old Friend perform the last action he will ever make as a free man. You can't stop me."

Garcia's eyes were wide, her fingers frantic, but nothing made a difference. In desperation, she tried to shut down her computers, but the buttons didn't work. As Red John laughed, she tried unplugging everything, but still they operated as though on full power.

"How are you doing this?" she exclaimed, distraught to the utmost.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Red John taunted.

"_Why_?" she cried.

"Because none of you had any business getting involved in this," Red John hissed, his amusement gone. "My quarrel with my Old Friend was mine and his, and arguably Teresa's, but _you_ had no right to interfere. You should have walked away before you even saw my case file, but you were just so moved by my Old Friend's tale that you charged blindly into the middle of a battle that _was_ _not_ _yours_. Now, you will pay just as much of a price as he. I know how much you all respect him, but it will be your duty to put him in jail for the rest of his days." He paused, presumably to take a breath. "I'm going to turn off my audio input now so you can't call out to warn him," he told them; "so sit back, relax, and enjoy the show…it'll start any minute." And he laughed.

"Garcia…" Morgan said.

"I can do _nothing_!" Garcia said, panicking. "I don't understand how he can do this! These shouldn't even have the electricity to run! No buttons I push anywhere do anything at all…I'm _frozen_!"

Red John laughed again. "Alright, I admit I waited to hear you panic," he said. "I love the fear in your voice, Penelope…It must really be quite a shock for the machines you've relied on all your life to simply not obey your commands any longer. You'll have them back a few minutes after I die - I've set everything up to ensure it. Farewell."

"Wait!" Reid called, but this time, Red John really had shut them off.

"Should we…go…?" Garcia half-asked faintly.

Hotch shook his head. "No," he said. "It wouldn't make a difference, and…" He trailed off.

"I want to know how this ends," Morgan said, voicing the very words all of them had been thinking.

When JJ returned a minute later, they explained what had happened. And then…there was nothing to do but wait.

~o~

It took every ounce of self-control Jane had to pull up in front of Mark Doe's cabin, get out of his car, and wait for the others instead of charging in, but he did. The team was there in seconds anyway, though they felt like the longest seconds of Jane's life. They all leapt out of the car as soon as Lisbon pulled up.

"Thanks for waiting," Lisbon said as she ran up to Jane.

"Thank _you_ for not taking too long," Jane replied.

To Jane's exasperation, Lisbon took a breath as the others joined them. "Okay," she said, "remember the profile - he has multiple plans for every possible outcome."

"He knows we're here," Jane said. "And he's still inside, he told me so - said we'd earned this." His body was burning to charge in and rip Red John's head from his shoulders.

"That doesn't mean we go charging in there without a plan," Lisbon said firmly. "He's clever, alright? I know from personal experience, he has some means of making this work out in his favor."

"So what do you suggest?" Jane asked, trying to keep his impatience out of his voice.

"Me, Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt go in together, guns at the ready," Lisbon said; "you don't take a step further than any of us. Once we know there are no traps - if there aren't - we'll stand back and let you finish this." She looked at the others. "Sound good?" she asked.

"Yes, boss," they said, and they drew their guns as Lisbon drew hers.

"Please tell me you're not going to knock and ask him to come out quietly," Jane half-begged as the four armed agents approached the front door.

Lisbon hesitated, as though considering.

"Nah," she said, and she kicked the door down without further pretense. It opened with almost no resistance, slamming against the wall of the hallway it opened into.

Lisbon had never actually experienced entering the building she had been held captive in years ago, so at first, the cabin felt completely unfamiliar to her. She and her agents walked down the hallway as close to abreast as possible, guns raised and ready to fire.

She kicked down the first door they came to, which was on their right, to reveal a pantry full of little glass vials filled with clear liquid, none of which were labelled. It was empty otherwise, and they moved on.

The next door was also on the right. Lisbon kicked it down, too, and revealed a low table, beyond which stood a large wardrobe. It was empty, so they kept going.

The third door they found was on the left, and at last, a prickle of unease ran down Lisbon's spine as she registered the layout and apparently natural but faint lighting. When she kicked the door down, she revealed an enormous surveillance room, identical to the one Red John had taken her to to show her Jane's despair and break her completely in the end. Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt had never seen anything like it, and all three of them (yes, even Cho) gasped audibly at the sight.

"He's not here," Lisbon forced herself to say, and they moved on.

There was a large opening coming up in the wall on the right. Lisbon had only seen its like from this angle once, but suddenly, she felt like Red John was walking her back to the room he'd kept her chained up in to wait to die. She slowed, but her agents were behind her and didn't understand, so she kept herself moving forward, half afraid of what that room had correlated to in Red John's real home.

Rigsby and Van Pelt were behind her when she lurched forward around the corner, ready to face a large, empty room. But it wasn't empty. It was…

_Oh, god…_ Lisbon swallowed, fighting the urge to gag, at the realization that Red John had kept her in a room that had correlated to his bedroom.

The bed was large, the head against the left wall of the room, the covers unremarkable. There was a chair in a corner - a chair Lisbon also recognized - and a lamp on a table by the head of the bed on the far side. Other than that, there was nothing; Red John wasn't there.

Lisbon knew Jane would have recognized the setup of this building by now - perhaps he had noticed before she had - but to her relief, no one, not even Jane, said anything as the four armed agents continued through the house.

There was one more door on the left, and then the hallway ended in a final door. Lisbon knew that Red John was in the room at the end of the hall, but she couldn't resist kicking down the other door first. Sure enough, it was the bathroom, identical to the one she had used when she had been Red John's captive. She noticed, this time, the door on the far end of the room, which, according to Jane, opened to the actual _bathing_ room, but she didn't want to see that.

She went on, Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt behind her, looking through the bathroom door curiously but following her lead all the same. When she reached the final door, she stopped.

_Red John is on the other side of this door._

The thought scared her, a lot more than she had expected or would ever admit.

_We're here on _our_ terms, though, this time,_ she reminded herself. _Just a couple of minutes from now, it will all be over - he'll be dead, Jane will have had his revenge, and we can all leave this nightmare behind us._

She took a deep breath, then, with more force than she had used on any of the other doors, she smashed it down with all her strength.

Quickly, she and the others who carried guns leapt into the room and lined up, Cho to the far left, Lisbon beside him, Van Pelt to Lisbon's right, and Rigsby on the far right. All of them automatically aimed at the head of the man who sat behind a simple but efficient desk, twirling his fully unsheathed knife between his fingers; evidently, the room was his workspace.

He smirked at the guns aimed between his eyes, completely unintimidated. "The door wasn't locked, you know," he said.

Lisbon recognized him. This was the same figure she had seen through vision blockers, she was sure of it.

"Jane," she said, her voice shaking only slightly, "do your thing."

Jane walked between her and Van Pelt, approaching the man at the desk. The man stopped twirling his knife, stood, and met him halfway. They stopped when they were only several inches apart, and Lisbon registered what she was witnessing: Two greater foes than the world had ever seen before, face to face, eye to eye, for the first time.

"I only want to know one thing about you," Jane said. "Are you the one who murdered my wife and daughter? Are you the man I've been chasing for years? _Are_ _you_ _Red_ _John_?"

For a moment, all was still. Then, the man's lips curled into a smirk.

"Yes, Old Friend, I am," he said. He leaned forward slightly to look down on his opponent, emphasizing the fact that he was taller than Jane. His smirk widened. "Now what are you going to do about it?"


	11. Chapter 9

The BAU listened as the final confrontation unfolded, helpless to warn Jane that killing Red John would play right into Red John's hands.

"Oh god, Patrick, please don't do it," Garcia whispered, her hands pressed together.

~o~

Patrick Jane and Red John looked each other in the eye; the four armed agents watching held their breaths.

Red John tilted his head. "Kill me," he dared Jane. "I won't resist. I am unarmed-"

"Unarmed?" Lisbon repeated.

"Ah," Red John said, lifting his knife in acknowledgement, "yes, I have my knife here, but I won't use it here or now, you have my word. It's just that I'd rather die with it in my hand. It's precious to me, after all - virtually a part of my body."

Jane hadn't moved a muscle.

Red John reached into his back pocket with his free hand and pulled out a large but otherwise ordinary knife, flipped so that the blade was in his hand, and held it out, handle-first, to Jane.

"You forgot to bring your own again, didn't you?" he taunted. "Here you are."

Jane still didn't move.

"No tricks," Red John said; "no booby traps, no chemicals or hidden mechanisms of any kind - it's just a knife, and a sharp one at that, you have my word on all of that." He smiled. "Take it," he urged Jane. "Kill me. Cut me open and watch me die slowly, as you've always sworn you would."

But Jane still remained unmoving.

"Do you not trust me to give it to you?" Red John asked. He set it aside on a nearby table, then stepped away so that Jane was closer to it than he was. "It's yours, Old Friend," he said; "go ahead and do what you've been wanting to do for a decade now. You've earned that right."

Jane wasn't even looking at him. He was breathing heavily through his nose, as though trying to keep calm, and he didn't move.

"Jane?" Lisbon exclaimed.

"Ah, My Dear Little Saint," Red John said fondly, turning his attention on her. He walked over to her. "How do you like my home?"

Lisbon managed to smirk back. "It's very nice," she said mockingly; "I almost feel at home here myself."

Red John grinned. "I couldn't have hoped for a better answer," he said; "maybe once I'm dead, you can have it."

"Yeah, thanks but no thanks," Lisbon replied.

Red John laughed.

"Leave Lisbon alone," Cho told Red John sternly, his gun still aimed at Red John's head.

"Ah, Agent Kimball Cho," Red John said mockingly, turning to the agent who had spoken, "the Incredibly Expressionless Man…well, the Incredibly Expressionless Man of the _C_BI, at least." He chuckled. "You know, I had a feeling that, if looked into, your eyes would tell a very different story. It seems I was right." He smirked and took a step closer to Cho. "You pretend to be serious and calm, but on the inside, you're burning with fury right now. With every fiber of your being, you're silently shouting at my Old Friend to kill me already-"

"Shut up!" Cho snarled, turning off the safety on his gun.

Red John just laughed.

For a minute, no one moved.

"And over here, we have…" Red John said, walking in the other direction, towards Rigsby and Van Pelt. He stopped in front of Van Pelt. "Agent Grace Van Pelt," he said, "the token religious…_spiritual_ member of the team. Such a pretty little girl-"

"Get away from her!" Rigsby snarled, turning off the safety on his gun.

Red John smirked, but didn't turn. "Mind yourself, Agent Wayne Rigsby," he said dryly; "your boss is in the room, after all."

Rigsby said nothing; his trigger finger twitched.

Red John's smile widened as he held Van Pelt's gaze. "A small-town beauty who wanted to be something more," he taunted. "Such a tragic past, really…_So_ much pain, all of which you wanted to leave behind, but it followed you all the way to Sacramento…_Ever_ so afraid to love Wayne Rigsby, who claimed to love you at first sight, because of what you'd been through, but _far_ from reluctant to fall in love with my dear friend Craig-"

"Shut up," Van Pelt snapped, turning off the safety on her gun.

"Can you people come up with no better comeback than 'shut up'?" Red John asked exasperatedly. "Is there some virus going around that destroys creativity?"

"Creativity is overrated; what matters is effectiveness," Van Pelt said coolly.

Red John blinked, then smiled. "Touché," he said, bowing slightly in acknowledgement. He chuckled. "You're _so_ much more clever than you seem, aren't you? Same as when my Old Friend had to rescue Saint Teresa from me…"

"Jane, quit standing there and kill him already!" Lisbon exploded.

Jane didn't move, hadn't moved since he had last spoken. Red John laughed.

"Yes, you want me dead _so_ _badly_, don't you, My Dear Little Saint?" Red John said mockingly. "Most people here do." He turned back to Van Pelt. "With one very interesting exception."

Van Pelt looked like she wanted to say something, but she remained silent.

"You believe in God, don't you, girl?" Red John sneered. "You believe that everyone has good in them, that the human soul is immortal and indestructible…and you wonder if even _I_ have a heart."

Lisbon's eyes widened; she had a feeling where this was going, but she didn't want to say it in case she was wrong.

"Am I _really_ evil?" Red John whispered tauntingly. "Can I _really_ be as bad as Saint Teresa makes me out to be - as _I_ make _myself_ out to be? Or is there something broken inside of me, some sort of sadness or hollowness, something to pity? You want to know…You want to ask…can I…feel remorse?"

"Not one more word," Lisbon said abruptly, turning off the safety on her gun. "Don't you _dare_ keep talking!"

Red John chuckled. "I know _you_ know the story, My Dear," he said, not turning from Van Pelt, "but you kept it from everyone here, so they don't know…they don't understand what I am. You were only trying to protect them, it's true - after all, the truth can sometimes be very damaging…but no one would ask a question they don't _want_ to know the answer to." He tilted his head. "And you _do_ want to know the answer, don't you, Grace?"

Van Pelt gulped but kept quiet.

"Well, as it just so happens, I _am_ capable of remorse," Red John said, and, miles away, several of the BAU members' jaws dropped. "Oh yes," Red John said, seeing the incredulity on some of the faces of his audience, "I know regret. I know what it's like to be tormented by a conscience, for the memory of a past action to cause me physical pain to recollect, to make me hate myself, to eat away at me, to keep me lying awake late at night, wishing with all my might that I had done things differently - oh yes, I _do_ know what that's like. One thing in my life - only one - I regret with all my heart." He smiled. "Would you like to know what that one thing is?" he asked wickedly.

"_No_!" Lisbon shouted. "No, they do _not_ want to know!"

"I'm not asking _you_, My Dear, I'm asking young Grace here," Red John said, still not even sparing Lisbon a glance. "All you have to do is ask, and I'll tell you," Red John told Van Pelt. "You _do_ want to know, don't you?"

"Van Pelt, trust me, you do _not_ want to know the story he's threatening to tell you," Lisbon told Van Pelt sternly, trying not to panic. "There's a reason I didn't even tell it to the BAU - you do _not_ want to know. Say no. Tell him you don't want to hear it. That's an order!"

"But you _do_ want to know," Red John coaxed. "Don't you, Grace?"

"Van Pelt, say no!" Lisbon shouted.

"That is enough!" Red John snapped at Lisbon. "I realize you're trying to protect her, but it's _her_ choice, My Dear, and if she wants to know, I _will_ tell her."

"I will put a bullet in your skull before you can tell her one word," Lisbon said, her voice shaking now. "You're not wearing your hunting costume, so if I fire a bullet, it _will_ kill you."

Red John chuckled. "But you won't," he said. "If you did, my Old Friend there would never have a chance to have his revenge - _his_ revenge, which he's fought many hard battles to get. He will _always_ wonder what it was you were begging me not to say, what could _possibly_ be so terrible that you'd rather deny him his revenge than let anyone hear it, and he won't stop asking you until you tell him. In the end, he'll find out anyway, but he won't have gotten to kill me. So no, My Dear, you won't shoot me."

Lisbon closed her eyes. He was right. He was evil and manipulative and was about to ruin several people's lives, but he was right.

"I hate you," she said in a hollow voice.

"I know you do," Red John replied, "and I love you." He smiled, then turned back to Van Pelt. "Ask me," he coaxed her. "Ask me what I regret. Ask me what I've done that I feel remorse for. You want to know, don't you?"

"I…" Van Pelt hesitated.

"_Don't_ you?" Red John pressed.

"I…I…yes," Van Pelt admitted. "I do want to know."

Red John's smile was chilling. "Then I will tell you," he said in a snakelike voice. He turned to Jane. "Actually, I'll tell _you_, Old Friend, and Grace and the others can listen. How does that sound?"

Jane still didn't move.

Red John peered at him, confused. "Are you frozen, Old Friend?" he asked, laughing.

No response.

Red John walked back around to stand in front of him and look him in the eye. Jane met his gaze steadily, and his eyes weren't glazed or distant in any way.

"You _can_ hear me, I know you can," Red John said. "You _are_ listening."

He saw it - a tiny twitch in his Old Friend's right eyelid. That was answer enough.

He smirked. Then, his expression darkened, as he recalled the memory he was about to tell - it _did_ pain him, truly it did, and he wouldn't have let himself even _think_ of it had he not been fully aware of the effect it would have on everyone listening except Saint Teresa.

"Well," he said, "it all began that night, when you _slandered_ me on live television in front of thousands of people." His anger rose, and he clenched his fists, fighting it down. It was a minute before he could continue.

"I was _very_ angry," Red John went on at last; "I have never been so angry in my life. What was it the BAU called it? A frenzy so extreme it even surprised me myself? That's impressively accurate, really. I saw red - not that I don't _love_ red, but I hadn't realized that the expression was quite so literal." He took a breath. "I didn't even make a conscious decision to go to your house that night, Old Friend," he confessed; "all I knew was that you had to pay, _right_ _then_ - not a week later, like I had been planning."

A question sparked in Jane's eyes.

"Oh, yes, I was planning on murdering your lovely wife anyway," Red John told him, smiling. "After all, had it not been for her, you would never have even _heard_ of me, let alone offered to assist law enforcement in trying to hunt me down. No…_she_ was the one who had the _gall_ to send you - _you_, an arrogant fool not even worthy to speak my _name_ - after _me_!" Again, Red John had to pause and fight down his unending rage.

Jane felt his face get hot, and he became slightly dizzy. This changed _everything_. And yet, at the same time, it really didn't change anything at all.

"I broke into your home without any stealth - not very like me, but fortunately, no ill came of it, at least not as far as I was concerned," Red John went on. "I went right up those stairs…your sweet little girl's bedroom was right at the top of the stairs, while your bedroom with your wife was down at the end of the upstairs hall. Why was that, Old Friend?" he asked. "One would almost think you valued your own and your wife's safety more than that of your child."

Jane's jaw clenched, but he gave no other indication that he was listening.

Red John smirked. "I was in your sweet little girl's room before I even knew it," he continued. "She was fast asleep, you know…and I…" He hesitated, genuinely ashamed. "I did something _so_…_stupid_…I don't think I'll _ever_ forgive myself…" He paused, working up the strength to say it, then looked Jane in the eye and said, "I forgot to wake your sweet little girl up before I killed her."

Van Pelt gasped.

"I never got to hear that little girl scream," Red John told him, "never got to see the fear in her eyes…and a child's body is _so_ much more frail than that of an adult, and I _knew_ that, but I failed to soften my blows accordingly - she was dead before she even had a _chance_ to wake up." He shook his head with genuine self-loathing.

Jane couldn't completely fight the tears that sprang to his eyes. As a father, he had always wondered, and though Kristina had once told him the answer he had wanted to hear, he hadn't really believed her…

"I _do_ hate myself for that, truly I do," Red John said, and everyone listening could tell that he meant it. Then he smiled and added, "But whenever I'm lying awake at night, my guilt eating away at me for not making that girl suffer, all I have to do to ease my conscience…is remember what happened next. And since I've already told you this much, I might as well tell you the rest." He turned his gaze on Lisbon. "Isn't that right, My Dear Little Saint?"

Lisbon said nothing. There was no point in stopping him now - the worst had already been done.

"You see, your lovely wife heard me come in - as I said, unlike my usual routine, I didn't enter with any sort of stealth. She probably thought I was you, so she didn't exactly come running; your sweet little girl was dead before your lovely wife even arrived. And when she did, she saw her dead daughter, me and my knife covered in blood, more blood still dripping onto the floor…and she positively _froze_ with horror." He smiled. "Which is fortunate for me, because your lovely wife had a rather fiery spirit - not unlike Saint Teresa here," he said, gesturing to Lisbon.

Jane still didn't move.

"Yes, fortunate for me, because she might have been able to put up a fight and hold me off for a few minutes otherwise," Red John went on after a moment; "but as it was, she couldn't even lift a _finger_ in her own defense.

"I took extra time with her - to make up for time lost with your sweet little girl, you understand…and I must say, I enjoyed her very much. You have excellent taste in body type-"

Jane seized up, all of his muscles clenching, his eyes screwed shut, his hands fisted tightly, as he fought to not react, to not rip Red John limb from limb.

Red John laughed. "Anyway, as I was saying, I took extra time with her. I told her _exactly_ why I was there, why she was going to die, why her daughter was dead - I _told_ her that it was all because of _you_," he jeered.

Jane still didn't respond, his clenched muscles even relaxing slightly. He forced his eyes open again.

Red John's smile widened. "But she didn't hate you, or blame you," he told Jane; "I could see it in her eyes, she didn't die with any sort of negative feelings towards you at all. In fact…" He chuckled. "More than pain and fear, more than horror and despair, there was something in her eyes that was…a bit of a killjoy at the time, but in hindsight makes it all that much more _delicious_."

Silence.

"She had _hope_," Red John told Jane. "She believed that you would be home soon, that you would come bursting through the door to her rescue at any moment, and even when she _knew_ that she was dead, that no amount of medical attention could _ever_ save her, she _still_ believed that you would come home before I could leave, that you would catch me, that she wouldn't die in vain. She _trusted_ you, Old Friend - she _died_ believing in you!"

Again, a pause.

"But you never came," Red John sneered. "I had more than enough time to leave my mark, set the scene, type up a note on your computer, print it off of your printer…even, on a sudden burst of inspiration, add a special touch of elegance to your wife's body just for you - her toenails painted in her own blood…" He smirked. "And I was still _long_ gone by the time you got home…because you were too busy having fun making money being a big, stupid, _liar_."

Everyone was still, including Jane. A whole minute passed in utter silence.

Then, Rigsby, Cho, Van Pelt, and all of the BAU suddenly understood - it clicked for all of them at the same time, just exactly what Red John was, exactly what true evil meant. Most of them found it was a chilling sensation, not unlike a diver's eardrum bursting and letting ice-cold water into the ear canal, except the cold flooded into their hearts, their very souls. They shuddered, visibly, even Cho.

Red John saw it, and chuckled.

Then, there was stillness once more. No one present could have spoken if they'd wanted to.

"By the way," Red John said at last, "your Federal Agent friends got an arrest warrant and sent the regular police after you. They'll be here in a couple of minutes; you don't have forever. If you want to kill me, you'll have to do it soon."

Still Jane didn't move from where he stood.

"You know what will happen if I'm placed under normal arrest," Red John goaded. "I'll get out. Even if you manage to convict me, I'll escape…and if I must go underground, well, I'll just have that much more time to kill people, won't I?" He laughed.

But Jane still didn't move.

"And, you know what?" Red John continued after a moment, walking past Jane to stand before the four armed agents again. "I think I'll kill someone close to you." He smiled. "Not Saint Teresa, I would never hurt you…again," he said to her directly.

"Gee, thanks," Lisbon said sarcastically.

Red John chuckled, then walked back over to Van Pelt. "But I _do_ think I'll have Grace here…" He looked in Van Pelt's eyes, and suddenly, his mocking demeanor changed. "Yes, I think I will," he said in an odd tone of voice. His lips curled into a wicked smile. "Look at you," he hissed to Van Pelt. "You're terrified, _horrified_, frozen in place like a rabbit! My very existence _petrifies_ you! Oh, you're _so_ deeply afraid…Yes…"

And that was when everyone listening registered that Red John's voice was becoming rough with arousal.

"What a treasure…" Red John lifted his ever-present knife and ran the flat of the blade along Van Pelt's cheek, like a lover's caress. She shuddered, but evidently, she _was_ frozen. "My Treasured Frightened Rabbit…"

"Don't you dare-!" Rigsby snarled.

"Oh, don't you worry, Wayne, I won't hurt her _here_," Red John chuckled, pulling his knife back. "But if my Old Friend doesn't stop me…" He trailed off in a mocking, singsong voice.

Suddenly, police sirens could be heard from inside the cabin.

"Ah, and here they are," Red John said, walking over to stand in front of Jane again. "This is your last chance, Old Friend - your only chance to save Grace Van Pelt, and countless others besides. Only death can stop me, and you know it."

Jane met his eyes, but he said nothing, and he didn't move.

And then regular cops were opening the door that had closed from bouncing against the wall so hard and entering the room.

"Agent Lisbon, CBI, _stand_ _down_," Lisbon commanded, taking one hand off her gun to show off her badge. "No one does anything unless _he_ - Patrick Jane - says so." She pointed.

"Sir, we've been told that this man-" He gestured at Red John. "-Dr. Mark Doe, is the serial killer known as Red John," one of the policemen said to Jane's turned back. "Is that true?"

Red John walked around Jane again, leaving nothing between him and the cops…and at last, at long last, Jane moved. He stumbled forward, grabbing the edge of the desk with both hands and gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white. He didn't look at the police.

"Yes it's him," he managed to reply.

Everyone stared at him.

"G-Get him out of here," Jane said in one shaky breath.

"Hands behind your back," one of the policemen said, pulling out handcuffs. Red John complied. "You have the right to remain silent-"

"I'm well aware of my rights, thank you very much," Red John spat; "probably more aware of them than _you_ are, in fact." He looked at Jane and laughed. "You should have killed me when you had the chance," he told him. "Everyone I kill from this day onward will be _your_ fault - every time word of a new victim comes in, you'll know that someone died because you couldn't stop me - because you're a coward!"

"_I'm_ the coward?" Jane exclaimed, snapping at last, grabbing the knife on the table and striding over to Red John.

"Sir-" the policeman who had just finished cuffing Red John began, but Jane shoved him aside.

"No - _I'm_ the coward? _I'M_ the coward?!" he shouted, pushing Red John against the wall and sticking the point of the knife in the hollow of his throat. "I have been chasing you for a decade," Jane raged, "and no matter how many circles you've danced around me, no matter how many times you got away and left me with nothing, no matter how much I suffered or how many people got caught in the crossfire, I've _never_ stopped hunting you! You, meanwhile, have been hiding, behind your brains, and your money, and all those ignorant fools who call themselves your friends; you only attack women - which, by the way, is not only cowardly but also very sexist - and whenever you do anything else, you send others to do your dirty work for you; a vast majority of your work has been done by proxies you've molded to do your bidding, and _I'm_ the coward?!"

Red John just smirked as the tip of the knife broke the skin of his throat, drawing a drop of blood.

Jane shook his head. "You may have a doctorate in English, but you don't know what the word means," he snarled.

For a moment, everyone was still.

"Now, officers," Jane said at last, raising his voice, "I have worked very hard for many long years for the chance to meet this man face-to-face on my terms, so you know that I do not speak lightly when I say…" He pushed off of Red John and stepped back, still holding Red John's gaze. "…Get this pathetic excuse for a human being out of my sight _right_ _now_," he commanded.

"Yes, sir!" one of the policeman said, and two men went to grab Red John's arms and lead him away.

For a moment, Red John's face was frozen in shock. Then it twisted with rage and hatred so intense it made him look _far_ from human.

"How _dare_ you?!" he snarled as he was dragged away. "How _dare_ you speak to me that way?! You'll pay for that, Old Friend, do you hear me?! Every night, someone will die, and every morning you'll wake up with more blood on your hands! I'll kill them _all_! _No_ _one_ will be safe!" He began to shout as he got further and further away. "_You'll regret_ _this_!_ Do you hear me, you stupid piece of FILTH_?!" he roared. "_You_! _Will_! _PAY_!"

And then the front door to the cabin closed, and he was gone.


	12. Chapter 10

Jane turned his back on his friends, breathing hard, the knife still in his hand.

Rigsby holstered his gun and put a hand on Van Pelt's arm. "Grace, you okay?" he asked.

Van Pelt didn't respond. Her breathing was shaky, her eyes were wide, and she didn't move.

"She's in shock," Lisbon said. "Get her out of here."

"Yes, boss," Rigsby said quickly, and he helped Van Pelt lower her gun, then started guiding her out of the building.

"I'll go with them," Cho said.

"Good idea," Lisbon said tonelessly.

A minute later, Jane and Lisbon were completely alone.

Jane lifted the blade to eye level. The drop of blood he had drawn from Red John's throat still clung to the tip. Curious, he brought it to his tongue and licked the blood off.

Salty. Metallic. Meaningless.

He sighed. Then, he tossed the knife aside; it hit the wall, clattered to the floor, and came to rest under the table Red John had left it on. Red John's own knife, meanwhile, had vanished entirely, though neither of the people in the room thought to look for it.

Jane walked over to behind the desk Red John had been sitting at. He pulled the chair out, then crouched down and went through the drawers. After a minute, he found what he was looking for: a black box with a microphone sticking out of the top and an on/off switch.

"Hey, BAU," he said into the microphone. "Uh, if you were recording that whole thing, keep the recording, I'm going to need it." He paused, then said, "I have, uh, ideas…I'll talk to you guys when I get back; please get a room, like a conference room or something, and I'll be there soon. Oh, and thank you, by the way - thank you for all your help."

He switched the device off and dropped it to the floor.

At last he stood and walked towards the door, and only then did he realize that Lisbon still had her gun out, and was now aiming it at him.

He froze. Lisbon glared at him.

His eyes widened. "Are you going to shoot me, Lisbon?"

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't," she snapped.

Jane blinked.

"Why didn't you kill him, Jane?" Lisbon demanded, taking a step forward, her gun still raised and pointed directly between Jane's eyes. "You _heard_ him! You _know_ what he's going to do - killing him is the only way to stop him! You _swore_ you _would_ kill him! Why didn't you kill him?! Why did you let him go?!"

Jane looked directly into her eyes. "I didn't kill him because killing him was exactly what he wanted me to do," he answered softly.

"What?" Lisbon exclaimed.

"Lisbon, you said it yourself two and some odd years ago," Jane said: "Red John _always_ gets what he wants, _especially_ when he wants something from _me_. He _wanted_ to die knowing that my life would be over. Killing him would not have been a victory."

"So it's better that he gets to live and kill another day?" Lisbon asked angrily.

"No," Jane said; "there's another way."

"What other way?" she demanded.

Jane hesitated. "I'm…uh…working on it," he said lamely. Lisbon shook her head, but he quickly said, "I have ideas, I just haven't sorted them out into a full-blown plan yet. Give me a minute." He closed his eyes, thinking.

A minute passed.

"I'm waiting," Lisbon said coldly.

Jane opened his eyes; she was still pointing her gun at him. "Uh, Lisbon, are _you_ really the one with the right to be mad at _me_?" he asked pointedly.

"If I hadn't talked to Red John so much, the BAU probably wouldn't have been able to help us as much as they did," Lisbon countered smoothly; "it's because of me that we're here now. We're even."

"Huh…I suppose you're right," he conceded.

Again, there was silence for a minute.

"Okay," Jane finally said. "Lisbon, I need you to-"

"I'm not doing anything until you give me a good reason to think that you didn't just give up your one chance to stop Red John," Lisbon said firmly.

"Lisbon, this isn't over," Jane told her.

She rolled her eyes.

"This is _not_ over, alright?" he repeated. "I _promise_ you, this is not the end - this is not even the _beginning_ of the end; this is the end of the beginning. But I need you to trust me."

_Trust_. A treacherous word, in more ways than one. Lisbon's scars were burning, still screaming at her to take matters into her own hands even now that Red John had been taken away. But trust…

She _did_ trust Jane, though she had betrayed his trust herself. And now, if there was any way to make this end well, that would all have to be left in the past. They would have to work _together_ - they couldn't afford to fight each other when Red John was on the brink of a killing spree.

She lowered her gun, turned the safety back on, and stuck it in her holster.

"Thank you, Lisbon," Jane said. "Now, listen…"

"I'm listening," she said, not too impatiently.

Jane nodded. "Alright," he said; "I'm going to ask you to do three things, and I'm going to tell you what they are in the _opposite_ order from the order I want you to do them in, do you understand?"

"I'll do the last thing you say first," Lisbon said, nodding.

"Good." Jane hesitated, then stepped closer to her and said, "But before that…I need you to promise me you will trust me to know what I'm doing, no matter what happens. I _will_ do some things that might not seem like the best of ideas at times, but please promise me that you won't doubt me."

Lisbon hesitated.

"Lisbon, I need you to trust me completely," Jane said. He lifted his left hand, showing her the wedding ring he still wore, and said, "I promise you, on this - on everything it means, and on everything it has ever meant - that I _will_ _not_ do _anything_ that will allow Red John to get away. But you need to trust me."

Lisbon's eyes widened; this was quite a pledge. "Okay," she said faintly.

"Say it," Jane said seriously.

"I promise I'll trust you to know what you're doing," Lisbon said.

"No matter what," Jane pressed.

"No matter what," she agreed, nodding.

"Okay, good," Jane said. "Now, the three things I need you to do.

"The third thing I need you to do - because I'll probably have to help you with it - is, get Red John's trial fast-tracked. As soon as it's legally possible to try him, make it happen - I don't care who's in line, I don't care what strings you need to pull or who you need to beg or blackmail, he needs to be on trial _yesterday_; the less time he has to plan anything, the better. Is that clear?"

"Yes," Lisbon said.

Jane nodded. "Alright," he said. "Now, the second thing I need is for the lawyers - both prosecution and defense - to be perfect. For the defense, I want the best defense attorney available."

"The _best_?" Lisbon repeated, confused.

"Yes," Jane told her seriously. "Trust me, I know what needs to happen, and in order for it to happen, Mark Doe needs the best defense he can get - I won't be able to work with anything else."

"Okay…" Lisbon said slowly, unsure but thinking that _maybe_ she understood.

"As for the prosecution, I need the best lawyer-"

"Done," Lisbon said quickly.

"-that will be willing to do whatever I say," Jane finished sternly.

Lisbon blinked.

"I need to call the shots on this, Lisbon," Jane said. "Trust me."

"There…aren't many lawyers who will be willing to just do whatever you say," Lisbon said slowly.

"Get the best of the few who will," Jane said.

"Okay…"

"Alright, now, the first thing I need you to do - you need to get on this as soon as possible," Jane said: "I need you to get Red John out to the media."

Lisbon blinked.

"Reports, interviews, whatever they can get - if you can hand the two boxes of Red John's case file to a reporter and have them run back to wherever with it and start putting all of it all over the news, _do_ _it_," Jane told Lisbon. "Go on record, answer any interview questions in as much detail as possible - they _must_ know _every_ detail available to law enforcement."

"Does that include everything about me?" Lisbon asked.

"No!" Jane said quickly; he had forgotten that part. "Don't give _any_ indication of your personal experience with Red John; anything you need to edit to hide that particular story takes priority over telling the media everything. But give them _everything_ _else_ - and I mean _everything_. And _fast_ - the sooner everything gets out to the public the better, by whatever means necessary. I want this to be the top story on the six o'clock news, understand?"

Lisbon nodded. "I…uh…might have a…friend, in the media, who can help," she said hesitantly, and to Jane's bafflement, she raised her hand and traced her fingers over the cross she always wore around her neck.

"Good," he said, resolving to ask later but not now; "use them."

"Alright," Lisbon said. "Anything else?"

"No," Jane said, half-pushing her back into the hall; "go! Now! Godspeed!"

Lisbon turned and started walking down the hall, her hand still on her necklace. She felt the slight weight of her cell phone in her pocket.

She stopped and turned back. "Jane?"

"Hm?" he asked, turning to her.

She searched her mind for something to say, then asked, "You _do_ know why he only attacks women, right?"

"Huh? Oh! Yes," he replied, "yes, I know, and he's not a coward - he's many things, but he's not a coward. I just said that to make him mad."

"To make him mad?" Lisbon repeated. "And you're asking me to trust you not to mess this up?"

"Yes," Jane said. When Lisbon just raised an eyebrow at him, he said, "Lisbon, making him mad is a _good_ thing."

"How is it a good thing?" she exclaimed. "How can an angry Red John possibly be better than a calm Red John?" But even as she spoke the words, she saw in them the answer.

"Because an angry Red John won't be able to think as clearly," Jane replied, smiling as he saw her realize this moments before he said it. "You know what happens when _I_ get mad."

"Yes I do," she said dryly. "The thing is, making him mad also means that there's that much more on the line."

"Well, yes," Jane admitted, "but it's a risk that needs to be taken." He met Lisbon's eyes. "Like I said, sometimes I might do things that won't seem like a good idea in the moment, but I need you to trust that everything I do from now on will be done with the intention of ending Red John," he told her.

"I'll hold you to that," Lisbon said.

"Please do," he said with half a smile.

Still, Lisbon hesitated. "Listen, I, uh…" She swallowed. "I'm sorry about…not telling you…that thing…"

"Oh, no, it's fine," Jane assured her, "I understand. He blew a lot of minds a few minutes ago. He's…" Jane hesitated, as though looking for the right words. "He's something else," he said at last, smiling in morbid amusement.

"Still, you had a right to know…" Lisbon said.

"Well, yes, I did, but I understand why you didn't tell me or the BAU," Jane said. "Uh…" He paused, then said, "Just for future reference, though - I mean, this probably won't matter in the future, but for the record - I, uh…I did always…wonder…" He trailed off.

"Wonder what?" Lisbon asked, confused.

"Just…" He sighed; he couldn't make himself say it in words. "You've never been a parent, so it's hard to explain…"

"You wondered if…she suffered?" Lisbon asked, trying to be gentle.

Jane nodded. "Yeah," he said sadly. "I mean, Kristina told me a few years ago that she didn't, but I…"

"You didn't believe her," Lisbon finished for him. "I get that." For a moment, she wondered how Kristina could possibly have known, but she pushed the question from her mind; most likely, Kristina had just told him what he'd wanted to hear, and hadn't _really_ known anything. "I'm sorry you had to find out from him, though," Lisbon said; "I mean, learning what he is-"

"Oh, I already knew," Jane said.

Lisbon blinked. "You knew?" she asked, surprised.

"As soon as I looked in his eyes, I knew," he told her, nodding. "I've looked into the eyes of bad guys before, and I thought cold and darkness and emptiness were what evil truly looks like, but…as it turns out, something I said that…that night, was true: True demonic evil burns like a flame." Jane shook his head. "His eyes weren't cold or empty - they were full of life, shining - radiant, even - but dark…" He tilted his head, his expression becoming perplexed. "Darkness shone out of his eyes, just like light shines out of most…Oh, I don't know," he said abruptly; "but I…I understood well enough, even before he told me how his conscience works."

"Are you gonna be okay?" Lisbon asked.

"Oh, I'm fine," he reassured her, clearly lying but at least acting completely normal under the circumstances. Then he looked at Lisbon sternly and added, "Now go do whatever it is you're putting off doing and get to work - the faster things are done, the less time Red John will have to come up with counter-plans."

"Right," Lisbon said, blushing slightly, and she left without further hesitation.

Jane stayed where he was for a few minutes longer, to process everything he had learned and iron out the fine details of the plan that was still forming in his head. It was going to be very difficult, and there were a lot of variables that were completely out of his control that could throw everything off, but if he played his cards _just_ _right_, there was a _chance_ he would be able to stop Red John without any sacrifices at all. _It's a long shot,_ he admitted to himself, _but there's no turning back now._

~o~

Once Lisbon was outside of the cabin, she stopped. Only her car and Jane's remained; apparently, Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt had opted to ride back with the blue-collar cops who had come and taken Mark away. She looked around, nervous about what she was about to do.

It had been nearly eighteen years. She didn't even know if the number she had was still accurate anymore. When Jane had told her to hand Red John's case file to a reporter, she had felt a twist in her gut as she had remembered that name from so long ago…

_It's almost as if this was always meant to be,_ she thought as she took her cell phone out of her pocket. She didn't have the number on speed dial, lest she accidentally call it, but her fingers remembered the buttons all the same even now, though cell phone technology had changed so much since last time. She took a deep breath, pressed "call", and raised the phone to her ear.

_Ring…Ring…Click._

The voice that greeted her was exactly as she had remembered it.

"Hey, Charlie," she said; "it's Terry." She grinned at the response, almost laughing for joy at the reunion to come. "Yes, I know!…Oh my god, it feels like it's been _forever_!…Yeah…Well, you know, I'm a cop, you're a reporter, it was best for both of us if we went our separate ways.…I've missed you, too.…Yeah…_Yes_, I'm still wearing it, you?…Really? Huh, after all this time, I would have thought you'd have…So anyway…yeah…" She smiled. "Let me put it this way," she said teasingly: "How would you like to be the lead reporter in the biggest story in the history of the state, maybe even the country?" She laughed at the reply. "Good, because I'm not saying one more word to you until I see you in person," she said, walking over to her car at last. "Do you know where CBI HQ is?…Yeah?…I'll meet you in the visitors' parking lot." She got in her car and shut the door behind her. "Me either…yeah…" She smiled. "I love you, too. See you soon. Bye."

She hung up.

For a minute, she just sat there, staring at the phone in her hands. She had actually made the call…After all this time, the person she had tried so hard to forget had existed was going to be in her life again…

Slowly, she smiled.

"Thank you, Patrick Jane," she said aloud, and she started her car.


	13. Chapter 11

On the way back to HQ, the first thing Lisbon did was call Bertram.

"Agent Lisbon!" he greeted her. "I was wondering when you'd call. I'm told by the BAU that there's been an arrest in the Red John case?"

"Yes, sir," Lisbon said, "Dr. Mark Doe, he's a local oil company tycoon who matched the BAU's profile to a T and then some."

"I don't recall asking the BAU to give us a profile for Red John…" Bertram said, almost warningly.

"Yes, sir, well, they offered their assistance with the case," Lisbon said; "they cleared it with Chief Strauss, so there shouldn't be any problems with that."

"Meaning Jane talked them into helping," Bertram said bluntly.

Lisbon smiled in spite of herself. "Yes, sir," she admitted, "but it's a good thing he did. We've got him."

"You had better be right," Bertram said; "I don't want to think about the consequences of a mistake this big…"

"It _is_ him, sir, I can attest to that personally," Lisbon said firmly; "he even confessed when we confronted him, very blatantly."

"Alright," Bertram said slowly. "Well, thank you for the update, Agent-"

"Director Bertram, sir, there's something else." _Might as well get started on project two while I have the time._ "Jane has asked me to, ah, arrange some things ahead of time, and some of it might be slightly against protocol or otherwise not my decision to make."

"I see…" Bertram said, even more slowly. "And you want my help, is that it?"

"Only with things I don't have the authority to do, sir," Lisbon said; "I'll handle as much of it myself as I can."

"And you're just going to do whatever Jane says?" Bertram half-asked, as though this went against common sense.

Lisbon hesitated. "Sir, I know Jane can be…difficult at times, but at the end of the day, he saved my life, _and_ my sanity. He swore he'd save me from Red John, and he did, even though Red John himself thought it was impossible; he swore he'd help me recover after that, even though no one thought I would _ever_ recover - myself included - and with his help, I recovered in a little over a year. When it really matters, he can be counted on to make the right choices." She hesitated, then added, "He swore to me that he'd put an end to Red John, and he made me promise to trust him to know what he's doing no matter what happens."

"And you don't think that's asking for too much?" Bertram asked, his tone indecipherable now.

Again, Lisbon hesitated, but only for a moment. "No, sir," she said; "I trust him."

"Alright…"

"Listen, he wanted me to make sure which lawyers try the Red John case, prosecution _and_ defense," Lisbon continued quickly. "He wants Mark Doe to have the best defense attorney available."

"The _best_?" Bertram repeated, surprised.

"Yes sir, he says he needs Mark's defense to be as strong as possible," Lisbon told him.

"O…kay…"

"Sir, please, don't question it," Lisbon half-begged. "Who's the best-reputed defense attorney there is?"

"Uh…" There was silence over the line for a minute, presumably as Bertram looked into the matter. "That would be…Alyssa Lamb. She's defended dozens of cases and never lost; even in cases where there's little to no evidence to support the defendant, she appeals to a jury's emotions to win an acquittal."

"_Perfect_," Lisbon said; "can you make sure she'll defend Mark at his trial?"

"I can do that, yes," Bertram said.

"Good," Lisbon said; "do it. As for the prosecution…" She paused, thinking. Not may lawyers would be willing to obey Patrick Jane - his involvement was typically disastrous in court, and most prosecutors hated him.

_It doesn't matter if they hate him or not as long as they do as he says, though,_ said a voice at the back of Lisbon's mind, and she blinked; it was true. With that in mind, she went through the list of prosecutors she knew again.

"What about Faith Chesterfield?" she asked at last.

"Uh…" Bertram sounded surprised, and Lisbon couldn't blame him - Faith Chesterfield tended to become too emotionally invested in cases, and this had lost her as many trials as it had won. But Lisbon thought that maybe she would be able to appreciate Jane's own passion and be willing to work with him. "Yeah…I think I can get her," Bertram said at last.

"I'm not sure if she's what we need, but can you at least ask if she'll talk to me?" Lisbon asked. "Soon?"

"How soon should 'soon' be?" Bertram asked.

"Literally as soon as possible," Lisbon answered, "I'm pulling into the parking lot now."

"Okay, I'll make some calls and…see what she says," Bertram said hesitantly.

"Thank you, sir," Lisbon said, genuinely grateful.

"What will you do now?" Bertram asked.

"Uh…another favor for Jane," Lisbon said evasively.

"Do I want to know?"

"No, sir, you probably don't," Lisbon replied.

"Then I won't ask," Bertram said. "I'll make the calls."

"Thank you, sir," Lisbon said again as she got out of her car.

"Thank _you_, Agent," Bertram said, but before Lisbon could ask what he meant by that, he hung up.

_Huh._ Lisbon stopped for a moment and looked at her phone, confused. _What was he thanking me for?_

As hadn't been the case for a long time, Red John immediately jumped to the forefront of her mind, as she went inside to find the rest of her team and tell them what little she knew of what was going on - Van Pelt, in particular, she wanted to talk to. In the elevator, she recalled something unsettling that Red John had once told her about Craig O'Laughlin:

_"He wasn't even the only friend of mine on that _list_."_

Bertram had been on that list…

_You're being paranoid,_ she told herself as she stepped off the elevator. _You're shaken because of all the stuff surrounding Red John that's happened today, and you're seeing enemies everywhere. Bertram was probably just thanking you for letting him in on what's going on._

With that, she pushed the last of her doubts from her mind and approached her team to fill them in.

~o~

The BAU were waiting in an empty room, sitting around a table, all of them in complete and total shock.

"I still don't get how Jane managed not to…" JJ trailed off.

"Yeah, by the time Red John was done talking, _I_ wanted to kill him," Garcia said in agreement. "And I don't, like, do that," she added quickly.

"It's alright," Morgan said, unable to even think of any sort of tease. "I felt the same."

"I think we all did," Hotch said, even more tonelessly than usual.

"Is it really good that he didn't?" JJ asked. "I mean, even if Jane's life would be ruined, maybe it would have been worth it." She looked around at her coworkers. "We had the whole thing recording, we could have presented it in court in such a way that a jury would understand."

"He'd still be guilty, though," Hotch said; "justice is blind, and any prosecutor would point out that such a recording would only confirm Jane's guilt. Red John said some threatening and…disturbing things, but he clearly wasn't fighting back or resisting arrest in any way."

"So what happens now?" Rossi asked.

"Now…" Hotch hesitated, then shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "I don't know anymore…" He had seen - even been the target of - many dangerous, scary, deranged people, and he had thought he knew the face of evil, but Red John was unlike anything he could have ever imagined. He knew his team felt the same way, all of them. The inability to feel guilt or compassion - psychopathy - was something that modern science could explain…but guilt - genuine _guilt_ - over _not_ causing pain made no sense. That wasn't how guilt worked.

"Lisbon was right," he said at last; "Red John isn't human."

The others nodded in agreement.

"Well, he _is_ human, technically, at least most likely," Reid said after a minute. "He's not like an alien or anything like that."

"He may well be a mutant, though," Morgan said.

"Possibly…" Reid said slowly. "Though I'm not sure what sort of mutation would cause…_that_."

"If we manage to get a hand on his body when he dies, I'd like to see an autopsy," Rossi commented.

"Yeah," Reid said, "me too."

They were talking to pass the time, but really, they were just saying words, making responses that matched each other's statements or questions. The truth was, all of them were deep in their own thoughts, trying to simultaneously comprehend and forget the impossibility that was Red John. They had all seen some disturbing, horrific, even traumatizing things over their many years chasing serial killers, but Red John made all of it look about as scary a dark old run-down house.

"I'm not sure how we'll go back to chasing regular serial killers," Morgan said at last, voicing one of the thoughts that had been running around in all of their heads. "It'll be hard to respect or even fear any unsub we chase from this point on."

The door opened, and they all jumped.

"Hey, BadAss Unit," Jane joked as he came in, smiling. He shut the door behind him waiting for a response.

The BAU just stared at him.

"You know, bad-ass?" Jane explained. "B-A? BAU?…Yes? No?"

The Federal Agents couldn't do anything but look at Jane, completely baffled. A long, awkward minute passed in silence.

"Okay, forget I said anything," Jane said with mock indignation.

Reid was the first to find his voice.

"How can you make a joke at a time like this?!" he exclaimed at last.

"Huh? Oh, I see," Jane said, smiling again. "Well, Spencer, you've seen some unsettling things in your life, we all have, it's an inevitable hazard of this line of work. _You_ handle it by focusing on learning the many and various facts and comparing them to the vast wealth of knowledge in your brain. _You_, Morgan-" He looked at Morgan. "-turn your unsettlement into righteous anger and use it to drive you to keep going. _You_…" He turned to JJ. "…generally don't hang around the bad guys and stiffs, instead you focus on the public and the families - the good, _living_ people you interact with; that's why you're such a good public relations manager. _You_…" He turned to Hotch. "…try to empty yourself of all emotion and bias and take everything with the utmost seriousness. _You_…" He turned to Rossi. "…focus on cause and effect, you try to go with the flow and understand what there is to understand. And _you_, Penny…" He turned to Garcia. "…surround yourself with bright colors and children's toys, to remind yourself to smile as much as you can."

The BAU stared at him.

He shrugged. "I make jokes," he said.

Again, there was silence for a moment. Then, Hotch - _Agent Hotchner_, of all people - gave a mortified laugh.

"Mr. Jane, I think all of us are finding it hard to handle what we heard Red John say to you," he said.

"Ah," Jane said, nodding, "I see. Well, I've been chasing him for a while, and I saw what he did to Lisbon at its worst - he's a nasty piece of work, and no mistake." He took a breath, then said, "But now…we have come to the final battle. All past losses no longer matter - if we win this, we win the war."

"So what are you thinking?" Hotch asked.

Jane hesitated. "Still working on it," he admitted. "Right now, though, Lisbon's getting some preliminary stuff set up for me, hopefully…We need to apply pressure - the less time we give him to plan for our next move, the better."

"He'll want to take his time to consider all possible scenarios and make plans for each," Morgan said, nodding; "if we don't give him the time to do that, he'll be less able to manipulate things into going his way."

"Not completely unable, though," Hotch said.

"Any amount is good," Jane asserted. "It's difficult to weaken him, but any degree we can weaken him to is better than allowing him to function at full capacity."

"What exactly is Agent Lisbon doing for you?" Reid asked curiously.

"Oh! Ah, she's giving Red John to the media to go nuts with, she's making sure the prosecuting and defense attorneys in the case will be ideal, and she's going to _try_ to get Doctor Mark Doe's trial fast-tracked, though she'll probably need some help with that," Jane answered; "_your_ help, potentially, if you can."

"Mr. Jane, we'll do whatever we can to help you make sure Red John is stopped," Hotch said, "but…" He hesitated.

"But what?" Jane asked.

"The only way to stop him is to kill him," Rossi said. "He said it himself, only death can stop him - anything else can only annoy and barely incapacitate him for a short period of time."

Jane nodded. "Yes, I know," he said gravely.

"What's stopping him from breaking himself out right now?" Morgan asked.

"His pride," Jane answered; "he can escape from jail any time he wants to, but if he does that, his illustrious life as Doctor Mark Doe would be over - he'll want to avoid that if at all possible. He's going to stay in jail as long as there's a chance he'll get out without breaking the law - as long as he wants to, in other words."

"Well, it's not _that_ easy to break out of jail," Garcia said nervously. "Is it?"

Jane chuckled. "Penny, I once broke out of jail with essentially zero assistance and nothing from outside except a cranberry muffin in a paper bag," he told her; "Red John will walk out of jail _if_ he wants to, _when_ he wants to, unless he dies."

"You did what?" Reid asked, his brow furrowed.

"Oh, long story," Jane said, waving Reid's question aside; "I'll tell it to you when we have time. Remind me, okay?"

"Mr. Jane, while I _am_ concerned that Red John might be able to outmaneuver us, we have a much more immediate problem," Hotch said.

Jane looked at him. Then, after a moment, he smiled. "Ah," he said, "Chief Stress."

"You only asked her to let us stay long enough to put together a profile," Hotch said, cracking a half-smile in spite of himself.

"Yes, I'll, uh, I'll get right on that," Jane said. "I'll do that right now, in fact - call her for me, would you?"

"What do you need us to do, though?" JJ asked as Hotch dialed. "We've done our job - we profile serial killers and see them get arrested; after that, we're done."

"That's not a hundred percent true, and you know it," Jane said, meeting her eyes. "You yourself have done more, at times.*"

"But what do you _want_ us to do?" Reid asked. "How can we help you further?"

"Simple," Jane said: "You can testify. And _you_, Penny," he said, turning to Garcia, "can work with me to edit that recording so that we can use it without compromising the privacy of, ah, certain people."

"You mean Agent Lisbon," Hotch said, handing Jane his phone.

Jane nodded. "Yes," he said, taking the phone and bringing it to his ear as it rang. He put it on speaker phone so that the BAU would hear all of the conversation - he needed their respect as much as possible.

"Yes, Agent Hotchner?" the haughty voice asked again.

"Hi, it's me again, Patrick Jane with the CBI," he said.

"Agent Jane," Strauss said, her tone changing to slightly pleased. "What is it this time?"

"Well, your team is _absolutely amazing_," Jane said emphatically. "They put together a profile, we brainstormed a little, and that was all it took - Red John has been arrested."

"Oh," Strauss said. "Well, I'm…glad to hear it."

"Yeah, but now we have another problem," Jane said. "You see, Red John is Doctor Mark Doe, a local oil company tycoon - he's very smart, very powerful, and very resourceful. You'll probably see him on the national news tonight, that should give you a better idea of exactly what we're dealing with, but I was hoping I could ask you for another favor, if I may be so bold."

"What favor?" Strauss asked guardedly.

"Well, obviously, your team is the best at what they do, and they understand and can explain criminal profiling and such much better than us," Jane said. "We _need_ to nail this guy, it's very vital - he's threatened to go on a killing spree after he gets out. If you could just spare your team long enough to testify at his trail, explain the profile to the jury, we would all be very grateful."

"Well, when will the trial be?" Strauss asked. "They just can't stay indefinitely."

"Oh no, of course not!" Jane said quickly. "I understand, you want your team back so they can catch more killers, _absolutely_ we understand that. However, if we can, we were hoping to get Red John on trial as soon as legally possible - probably no more than a couple of days from now - and while your team is _very_ good, a couple of days isn't _quite_ enough time to justify them returning to Quantico and then coming back here, yeah?"

"You _hope_ to put him on trial soon," Strauss repeated.

"Uh, yes, we haven't managed to nail down a date just yet, we only just caught him a few minutes ago," Jane said. "We should know by tonight; do you want me to wait until after we're sure and call you again before you decide?"

"I would appreciate that very much, Agent, yes," Strauss said.

"Thank you so much, your help has given us so much progress with this case after many fruitless years of wild goose chasing," Jane said. "I'll call again soon to let you know how things will go."

"I eagerly await your call," Strauss said, and the BAU were surprised to hear a bit of a smile in her voice.

"Alright," Jane said, "bye for now."

"Goodbye," Strauss said, almost pleasantly, and she hung up.

The BAU were staring at Jane as though he had just parted the Red Sea. Jane grinned as he gave Hotch's phone back to him.

"You really _will_ have to teach me how to do that at some point," Hotch said, smiling in spite of himself.

"I'll be happy to," Jane said.

"I'm curious," Rossi said; "exactly how vital is it to your plan that we testify?"

"Oh, _extremely_ vital," Jane assured him; "I'm not sure if I'd be able to make my plan work at all without you."

"So you _do_ have a plan?" Hotch half-asked.

"Meh, pretty much," Jane said, shrugging. "Again, I'm still working on it, but what I have so far, I need you guys for." He looked around at them all then, seriously. "Now, I already told Lisbon this, but to be fair, I should let you know ahead of time as well: Some parts of this plan _will_ seem questionable - I may sometimes do, say, or request things that seem like a bad idea in the moment; please trust me to know what I'm doing, and that everything I do from here on out, I will do with the sole purpose of ending Red John. I need you to promise me that you will trust me no matter what. Okay?"

"Absolutely!"

"Of course we will!"

"Yes, of course."

"Whatever you say!"

"Alright."

"Alright."

Reid, JJ, Hotch, Garcia, Morgan, and Rossi all answered at once, enthusiastically.

Jane smiled. "Good," he said. "Hang tight for now; I'm going to check on Lisbon, I'll be back when it's time to move forward. For now…meh, take your time to organize your thoughts, I'm sure you need it."

Hotch nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Jane," he said; "we'll be here."

"Alright," Jane said, still smiling; "I'll be right back."

"Mr. Jane, before you go…" Hotch said.

Jane was already halfway out the door, but he stopped and turned back. "Yes?"

"How did you…?" Hotch seemed to have difficulty finding the right words.

"How did I what?" Jane asked.

The BAU glanced at each other. Then Morgan said, "How did you manage to not kill him? No one would have blamed you - he was goading you with everything he had."

Jane nodded. "Yes," he said, "and I saw that right away - he _wanted_ me to kill him, there was no way he'd rather die; and I knew that this time, the _final_ time, I couldn't afford to give him what he wanted."

"But _how_?" Garcia asked.

"I'm, uh, I'm not sure," Jane said, shrugging. "I just…waited it out, I guess. It wasn't easy, but I…I managed to stop myself somehow." He frowned; he hadn't wondered about this before now, but come to think of it, how _had_ he managed to hold still, anyway?

Hotch took a breath, then said, "You did well."

Jane blinked; any sort of praise from Agent Hotchner was, he knew, extremely unusual.

"You're a much stronger man than I will ever be," Hotch went on.

"Nah," Jane said modestly, waving the praise aside and trying not to blush. "I just did what I had to."

"In the end, that's all any of us can do," Hotch said, nodding.

"Amen," Jane said. "See ya."

And he left.

The BAU all welcomed the quiet time alone to sort out their thoughts. It hadn't even been a full day, but it had already been a wild ride, and there was even more madness to come.

~o~

Lisbon was waiting outside nervously. She didn't even have any idea what kind of car she was waiting for, and she didn't know if they would be recognizable to each other in person at all. It had been so long…

"Terry!"

Lisbon turned. A very pretty woman with a headband holding back waves of golden hair and a very chic purse slung over her shoulder was walking over to her. The only jewelry she wore was a necklace - a silver cross with a ruby set in the center.

Hardly able to believe her eyes, Lisbon stood frozen for a minute. Then, she started walking quickly. The blond woman's pace increased, as did Lisbon's, until they were running the last few steps, arms spread wide, and they engulfed each other in a tremendous hug, grinning and laughing.

"Oh my god, Terry, I've missed you so much!" the woman said.

"Oh, I know!" Lisbon said. "It feels like it's been _forever_!"

They pulled back to look at each other.

"You look exactly the same as I remember," Lisbon said.

"You've changed your hair, but other than that, you look the same," she replied.

They hugged each other again, less crazily this time.

"I've missed you _so_ _much_, sis," the woman said.

Lisbon smiled. "I've missed you, too, Charlotte."

* * *

***This is a reference to "Izzy's Curse" and "Izzy's Redemption" - remember, ALL of my fanfics are ALWAYS in canon with each other. ;)**


	14. Chapter 12

Lisbon escorted Charlotte around security, showing her badge and giving no chance for anyone to question her. She knew - or hoped - that there was at least a tape recorder in Charlotte's purse, and that was both exactly what she wanted and exactly what security was screening for.

"Wow, look at you," Charlotte said as they got on the elevator. "Little miss in-charge."

Lisbon smiled at her. "I've been a Senior Agent for over ten years," she told her; "I'm in charge of my own team and everything. There are only two levels of authority above me, and right now, I'm good with where I'm at."

"Wow," Charlotte said, shaking her head and smiling brilliantly. "You've changed, sis."

"Nah," Lisbon said, "just grown up some, I guess. You probably have, too."

Charlotte giggled. "Not really," she said.

Lisbon couldn't stop smiling. Her other half, the only person in the world she had ever been able to talk to _completely_ openly…They had had to separate when Charlotte had decided she wanted to be a reporter - Lisbon had already been in law enforcement by then, and it was either separate or one of them would have had to give up their career.

"I'm glad you at least haven't turned into a robot since I last saw you," Charlotte kidded as they got off the elevator.

"Oh, other people picked up where you left off," Lisbon bantered; "I haven't been able to turn into a robot any more than I was able to when we were together."

"You make it sound like we were married," Charlotte joked.

Lisbon laughed. Truly laughed - the sight and sound would have stunned anyone who hadn't known her more than eighteen years.

Finally, they were in the office space. It was empty just then; the two boxes of Red John's case file were packed and stacked one on top of the other.

"So tell me," Charlotte said: "Why did you call? Not that I'm not happy to see you, but you said something about the biggest story ever…"

"Well, I need you to _make_ it the biggest story ever," Lisbon amended, "and I really can't trust anyone else in the media business…at all."

Charlotte smiled. "How do you know you can trust me?" she teased.

"Charlie," Lisbon said, giving her a look.

Charlotte said nothing, still wearing a teasing smile.

"We made a promise long before I even became a cop," Lisbon said. "Sister Pledge, remember?" She smiled. "It's been a long time, but I still remember."

"Me too," Charlotte relented. "We're sisters, first and foremost, no matter what happens."

"And some sister you'd be if I couldn't trust you," Lisbon said, not as sternly as some people who knew her might expect.

"So what's going on?" Charlotte asked. "What's so big but so secret you need my help in particular?"

"It's not _secret_, not exactly," Lisbon said; "I just need to be able to keep it under some sort of control once it gets out; I figure you'll probably be the lead reporter, and I'm hoping I'll be able to direct or regulate the press with your help."

"And what's in it for me?" Charlotte asked. "Sisters or not, I'm supposed to listen to my boss, not a cop - even the newest reporters know to circumvent and extort law enforcement whenever possible to get a story. That's _why_ we had to go our separate ways, remember?"

"Yes, I remember," Lisbon said, "but you're not that ruthless."

"I have to be, at least at work," Charlotte said, shrugging.

Lisbon smiled. "So you _have_ grown up some," she said. "Good. Once I explain to you what's going on, you'll understand what's in it for you."

"So tell me already!" Charlotte exclaimed. "You've kept me wondering all day!"

"It's barely been half an hour," Lisbon said, laughing - Charlotte's insatiable curiosity had been the main reason she had decided to become a reporter, and it looked like it hadn't changed.

"Terry," Charlotte said, exasperated.

"All right, all right!" Lisbon said. She took a breath. "Well…do you know about the serial killer known as Red John?"

"Red John?" Charlotte repeated. "That freak who paints smiley faces in people's blood?"

"That's him," Lisbon said, smiling at the faint irony of Charlotte calling Red John a freak without knowing hardly anything about him.

"Terry, every reporter in California knows about Red John, even if crime isn't their field - it's one of those big-name reporting legends," Charlotte told Lisbon.

"You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that," Lisbon said, feeling her spirits lift - if Red John on his own was that big a deal, then making this story a _really_ big deal would be that much easier, and anything that would make this thing easier was a blessing.

"So what about him?" Charlotte asked.

"We got him," Lisbon replied.

Charlotte's eyes went round. "You caught Red John?!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, yes, don't shout," Lisbon said, smiling. "Yes, we got him - his real name is Doctor Mark Doe, he's a local oil company tycoon, freakishly smart and very powerful."

"Oh, yeah, I've heard of him," Charlotte said, and Lisbon's spirits lifted even higher. "He's not a _huge_ deal, but I've heard the name once or twice."

"Well then, this should be quite a story," Lisbon half-teased.

"Uh, _yeah_," Charlotte said, her eyes still wide. "What do you need me for?"

Lisbon smiled; what she was about to do was a huge risk, but Jane had told her that it was ideal if she could do it. Without a word, she walked over to the desk and picked up the two boxes, then brought them over to Charlotte. "This is the entire case file for Red John - it's everything we have on him as of yesterday. Take it."

"Take it?" Charlotte repeated, surprised. "Like, _all_ of it?"

"_All_ of it," Lisbon confirmed. "Share it with every news network in the state and all the national networks as well - this information needs to be _everywhere_, _now_."

"Won't you get in trouble?" Charlotte asked.

"Possibly, but this is really important," Lisbon said as Charlotte took the boxes and tried not to let her purse fall off her shoulder.

"Must be, if you're breaking your own rules," Charlotte muttered.

"I heard that!" Lisbon said.

"Good," Charlotte bantered.

Again, Lisbon laughed. God, she hadn't laughed like this in nearly two decades…Jane did his best, but he was more annoying than anything - only Charlotte brought her to life like this.

"I missed you, Charlie," she said fondly, only just realizing then exactly how much she had missed her sister.

"Yeah, I missed you too," she said.

"Uh, so, anyway," Lisbon said, getting back to the matter at hand, "that's all we had _as_ _of_ _yesterday_ - today, there have been some huge breaks on the case, mainly thanks to the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI getting involved."

"Are there records of that, too?" Charlotte asked.

Lisbon smiled. "Better, I was present for all of it, it's fresh in my mind, and I will tell you everything on record," she replied. "Did you bring a recorder so you could do interviews?"

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Sis, I take my tape recorder _home_ with me," she said, smiling; "yes, I have it with me now."

Lisbon raised her eyebrows. "Wow," she said, half-teasingly, "I had no idea you could be so serious about your job."

Charlotte shrugged. "Hey, I never know what'll happen," she said, "and it doesn't weigh that much; it's just as much an accessory as my makeup."

Lisbon resisted rolling her eyes at that. She sort of understood the idea of fashion - appearances _do_ matter, she wasn't completely oblivious - but there were more practical things a person could do with their time than paint their face.

"Come on," she said, taking a step away; "I'll get us a room, and then I'll tell you everything I can." Her mind had been racing, grappling with the story she would have to tell on and off since Jane's directions, and she thought she'd pretty much figured out how much she could tell without revealing any of her own personal experiences with Red John.

Charlotte followed.

~o~

Dr. Mark Doe had never thought he would wear a prison jumpsuit, or see the inside of a jail cell in person. Of course, it was all the same to him - the only thing he really missed was his surveillance room. Well, that and his knife - he'd had to hide that, and quickly; _no_ _one_ could touch his knife except him. He hadn't been lying, after all - after all the blood he'd spilled with it, it pretty much _was_ a part of his body, or at least he valued it as such.

So…his Old Friend hadn't acted according to plan…No doubt he was scrambling to try to find some other way to stop him now. _Why_ that was puzzled Red John, but he decided not to question it; in any case, it meant that he would go free, wreak terror and havoc once more.

He wasn't worried. Even a conviction wouldn't stop him - if anything, it would mean more killing, and he'd almost be grateful for that. Especially considering…

_"…Get this pathetic excuse for a human being out of my sight _right now_!"_

Oh, his Old Friend would pay for that - he'd pay for it in the blood of dozens, even hundreds if Red John could manage it. _No_ _one_ disrespected him, _ever_ - his Old Friend should have learned that by now. Then again, he _was_ a complete and utter moron…

Mark was drawn from his reverie back to the prison cot he was casually lying on at the sound of his prison cell door opening. Curious, he got to his feet. The police led him out without a word, bringing him to an empty room with a table and two chairs, the sort police interviews were sometimes carried out in. Was that what was happening? If so, it would be completely pointless - he was _never_ at a loss for words, and he could talk circles around almost anyone.

The door opened again, and in came a somewhat-attractive brunette woman carrying a file. She smiled and held out her hand to Mark.

"Dr. Mark Doe?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, shaking her hand and giving her a warm smile.

"I'm Alyssa Lamb, I'm going to be your defense attorney," she told him.

The name meant something to him - one of the best defense attorneys in the country, Alyssa Lamb was just as good at manipulating a jury with emotions as she was with facts.

"I don't recall asking for a lawyer," Mark said, somewhat perplexed. "I could do things on my own just fine."

"I was asked to try your case, Dr. Doe," Alyssa said. "I'm more than happy to defend you." She opened her file. "The CBI has almost no evidence against you," she told him; "I'm not entirely sure on what grounds you were arrested, to be honest."

"I've been accused of being the serial killer known as Red John, I know that much," Mark said. "A mister Patrick Jane led the charge, I believe." He shook his head. "Terrible, what happened to him - Red John murdered his entire family ten years ago, and he's been seeking revenge ever since, the poor fool." Mark took a breath; he couldn't risk revealing that he actually _was_ Red John, not just yet at least. "I think he's just tired of the chase and wants a scapegoat," he told Alyssa, "and I can understand that. Ten years…must have been torture for him. Of course he'd want it to be over. He murdered an innocent man a few years ago because he thought the man was Red John, but he was wrong then, too."

"So you're definitively saying that you aren't Red John?" Alyssa asked.

Mark smiled. "Ask anyone who knows me," he said; "I'm not a killer." _I'm a _monster_, but you don't need to know that._

Alyssa flipped through her papers, then stopped. "Dr. Doe-"

"Oh, please, call me Mark," he said; "no need to be formal."

Alyssa smiled. "Mark," she said. "According to this, the main evidence against you comes from the work of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI."

"The BAU?" Mark asked. "I've heard of them, if vaguely…criminal profilers, aren't they? _Professional_ criminal profilers." He smiled. "I've studied criminal profiling a tiny bit," he told her, knowing he had the credentials to back him up.

"Well, apparently, the profile put together for Red John matches you," Alyssa said, not accusingly.

Mark smiled again. "Criminal profiling isn't an exact science," he told her; "even professionals aren't completely right all the time. And in this case, they're wrong." He had to pause for a moment before he could make himself say it, but he hid it with another smile. "I'm not Red John," he said.

Alyssa nodded. "Well, I think it would be a good idea to make a statement," she began.

Mark held up his hand. "Please, Alyssa, there's no need for you to work on this case," he told her reassuringly. "I'll come up with what to do - I know enough about law enforcement to know how we should handle this. Not that I'm ungrateful to have your help," he added warmly.

Alyssa's smile widened. "I must say, Mark, I've never defended anyone like you," she said; "most wrongly accused people are upset or angry."

"I've been put in here on the words of a very upset and angry man himself," Mark said dismissively; "I forgive him for that. It won't do any harm to anyone in the long run, and as they say, no harm, no foul."

And with that, Alyssa fell just the tiniest bit in love with him. He had to suppress a smirk; this girl was so easy to manipulate, it wasn't even fun. She was the sort of person who believed that _everyone_ has good in them, that much was more than obvious - it was what made her so good at her job.

He wondered how she'd feel if he were to cut her open, again and again, enjoy her flesh as her lifeblood slowly poured out of her…

He smiled, and was able to make Alyssa believe that it was because he felt the same spark for her as she had felt for him. Oh yes, she would make _very_ nice prey.

~o~

Two hours later, Lisbon was leading Charlotte away. The two boxes containing the Red John case file were several whole recording tapes heavier; as it had turned out, it was a good thing Charlotte stayed as stocked with tapes as she did her makeup. _Never thought I'd be grateful for my sister's feminine obsession with having stuff,_ Lisbon found herself thinking as they walked.

Suddenly, she stopped, remembering something she wanted to do sooner rather than later.

"Hey, sis, how about you, uh, wait in the office space, there's something I need to do," she said to her sister. "I'll only be a minute."

"Yeah, sure," Charlotte said; "I'm not walking out of here with these boxes without you and your badge, after all."

Lisbon chuckled, more lighthearted than she had been in a long, _long_ time.

In her office, she found Van Pelt - exactly who she had been looking for. Van Pelt was sitting in a chair, her eyes distant.

Lisbon's heart twinged with sympathy, her mood slightly darkening again - being targeted by Red John was traumatizing, there were no two ways about it. Just learning Red John's true nature was traumatizing for most, especially for those who hadn't experienced his evil firsthand before…

Van Pelt actually jumped at the sound of the door opening. She turned.

"Hey boss," she said with a very fake smile.

"Hey," Lisbon said, not even trying to force a smile back. "How are you?"

"I, uh, I'm okay," Van Pelt said, far from convincingly.

Lisbon nodded, then walked over and sat down next to her instead of in her desk chair.

"I wanted to talk to you about Red John," she told Van Pelt.

At the very name, Van Pelt's face paled.

"It's okay," Lisbon said. On a burst of inspiration that probably had something to do with having her sister back in her life, she reached over and took hold of one of Van Pelt's hands. Van Pelt's hand shook, and Lisbon held tight.

Van Pelt looked at her uncertainly.

"Red John is…the most evil thing that couldn't possibly exist," Lisbon said. "The devil himself couldn't be more evil, I know."

"Yeah," Van Pelt said, not even trying to pretend to smile anymore, either.

"Even after I got away from him…I was never the same," Lisbon went on. "Jane helped me get myself back together, but I'm still not the same as I was before…It's impossible to face Red John and not carry scars."

Van Pelt's expression turned confused; clearly, she had thought that Lisbon had completely left behind _all_ of Red John's torture.

"Even now…I don't have that…particular nightmare anymore, but…well, I do have nightmares sometimes, like everyone does," Lisbon continued. "I…never saw his face - not while I was his captive - so I guess I'm lucky in that _that_ couldn't haunt me, but something else…did. There is something, that I guess made more of an impression on me than anything else, that still haunts my nightmares…even when I'm awake I think I hear it sometimes, though I try not to show it."

"What?" Van Pelt asked, her voice shaking.

Lisbon met Van Pelt's eyes. "His laugh," she told her. "The sound of his laugh haunts me to this day." She hesitated, then asked, "What's haunting you?"

Van Pelt took a breath. "His eyes," she replied, sounding like her voice was about to crack; Lisbon held her hand a little tighter. "The way he looked at me…especially right at the end there…Like he'd never wanted anything in his life more than he wanted me just then." She shuddered.

Lisbon nodded. "Van Pelt, I'm not going to lie to you," she said; "you…are Red John's ideal victim."

"What?" Van Pelt gasped.

"Most of the time, you're strong, brave, clever, resourceful, and most of all, vivacious - you're full of energy and life," Lisbon said. "You also haven't quite lost all of your youthful naïveté yet…which means that when you get scared, you get _very_ scared. Fear is like a drug to him - he can't get enough. No doubt between one thing and another, the sheer amount of fear you can feel…makes you very…desirable, to him."

Van Pelt's breath started coming harder.

"But I also want to tell you that he won't get you," Lisbon said.

Van Pelt looked up, surprised.

"Jane is working on a plan to make sure he never hurts anyone again, including you," Lisbon told her. "He _will_ _not_ lay hand _or_ knife on you, I promise. _Jane_ promises, same as he promised to save me." She met Van Pelt's eyes. "Okay?" she asked.

Van Pelt nodded, still badly shaken.

"I have to go," Lisbon said, releasing Van Pelt's hand and standing up. "You hang in there, okay? Whatever you need to do to feel better, if there's anything at all, do it - nothing is more important than fighting the effects of facing Red John."

"Okay," Van Pelt said softly.

Lisbon nodded and left, headed back to the office space so she could get her sister - and the Red John case file - out of the building without any further delay. Helping Van Pelt handle Red John's evil and desire took priority, but she'd hold up for the moment, and there was nothing else Lisbon could do for her just then anyway.

~o~

After standing around for a couple of minutes, Charlotte walked over to the couch that sat a little beyond the desks, set down the boxes, and sat down. She figured there was no reason she couldn't start looking at the files while Terry was busy with…whatever.

So it was that Patrick Jane walked into the office space and found a very pretty woman with waves of golden hair held back by a pink headband, blue eyes that sparkled with curiosity, and a very nice small purse over her shoulder, looking through papers while _sitting_ _on_ _his_ _couch_.

He walked over to her. "Uh, excuse me," he said.

The woman looked up, but even when she saw him, she didn't seem embarrassed. "Yes?"

"Get off my couch," he said bluntly.

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You're sitting on my couch," Jane said. "I spent a lot of time on that couch, it's mine, please get off of it."

"Uh…okay," the woman said, confused and slightly offended, and she put the papers she had been looking through back in the box Jane hadn't noticed because he had been so focused on someone sitting on his couch and stood up. "Sorry."

"Nah, it's okay, no big deal," Jane said, waving her halfhearted apology aside.

She blinked. "Huh?"

"In fact, _I_ apologize," Jane said, contrite; "I assumed that you knew that this was my couch and were sitting on it with the intention of annoying me. Evidently, I was mistaken."

The woman stared at him in speechless astonishment.

"You know what? Let's start over, we got off on the wrong foot," he said, and he held out his hand and smiled. "Hi, I'm Patrick, nice to meet you."

"Uh, nice to meet you, too…I think," she said, still a bit taken aback but taking his hand and shaking it all the same. Jane's smile helped her gather her wits, and she smiled back. "I'm Charlotte."

Jane worked very hard to not betray the fact that this woman's name made his stomach turn over; his smile faltered ever-so-slightly for a moment, but not much. "Charlotte," he repeated. "Lovely name."

"Uh, thanks," Charlotte said, taking her hand back.

At that moment, Lisbon walked in.

"Okay, sis, sorry about that, let's-" She stopped as she saw Jane. "Oh," she said. "Jane. There you are."

"Yes, here I am," Jane said. He looked between Lisbon and Charlotte, then turned his attention on Lisbon. "I thought you had three brothers."

"I do," Lisbon said; "you can still think that."

"Then how is this woman your sister?" Jane asked.

"Oh! _Foster_ sisters," Lisbon clarified, walking over and joining them. "After my dad…" She trailed off, sadness and pain in her eyes.

"Ah," Jane said, understanding. "I did wonder - I mean, you two look nothing alike at all, not even in the slightest…" He looked at Charlotte, then back at Lisbon again. "Was this the, uh, friend you'd spent fifteen years pretending never existed?"

Lisbon swallowed hard. "Yeah," she said. "Eighteen years, now."

"Because she's a reporter?" Jane asked.

"Yep," Lisbon replied.

"Well, I'm glad you two got to reunite," Jane said, and he smiled again. "_Very_ nice to meet you, Charlotte," he told Charlotte. "Now, uh, I believe you and your sister have somewhere to be."

And that was when he noticed Charlotte staring at him with curious eyes. Through them, he could almost see the questions buzzing around in her head like bees.

"What did Terry call you?" she finally asked.

"Terry?" Jane repeated, looking at Lisbon. "I thought your nickname was Reese."

"Different family, different nickname," Lisbon said with a slightly sad smile.

"Ah, I see," he said. He turned back to Charlotte. "To answer your question, Charlotte, she called me by my last name - it's protocol for people who work in the CBI."

"Jane…" she said softly, cogs spinning in her head at the speed of light. Suddenly, her eyes lit up. "_YOU'RE Patrick Jane_?!" she exclaimed.

Jane blinked. "You've heard of me?"

"Are you kidding?" Charlotte practically squealed. "Every reporter who knows _jack_ knows about you! You're a legend!"

"I am?" Jane asked, genuinely surprised.

She grinned at him. "Big-time psychic gets his whole family murdered by a big-time serial killer, quits his job, and now works in law enforcement to catch murderers," she said; "the bare bones of your story alone are any reporter's _goldmine_." She reached out and took Jane's hand again, shaking it enthusiastically. "Mr. Jane, it is an _honor_ to meet you," she said with a bit of genuine awe in her voice.

"Oh, uh, my pleasure," Jane said, somewhat taken aback.

"Thanks for turning up his ego a few more notches, that really helps," Lisbon said sarcastically. She turned. "Come on, sis," she said; "the sooner we go, the sooner Red John gets his time in the limelight."

Charlotte's eyes, bright with enthusiasm and questions, darted between Jane and Lisbon. "Oh my god," she said, turning on Lisbon. "You're his boss! You're! _His_! Boss! Aren't you?" She was practically jumping up and down.

"Yes, that's right," Lisbon said, "and let me tell you, it's not a fun job."

Jane shrugged. "Meh, it has its moments, doesn't it?"

"I'm not going to answer that," Lisbon said dryly; "you've had more than enough of an ego boost for one day as it is."

"Sis!" Charlotte exclaimed.

Jane smiled at Charlotte. "Oh, don't mind her, she talks to me like that all the time," he told her. "It's fine. It's true, I do make her life very difficult sometimes, and I am kind of full of myself."

"I'm sorry, could you say that last bit again?" Lisbon asked, fluttering her eyes with mock innocence. "I don't think I've ever heard you admit it out loud before."

Jane looked at her. "Uh, yes, Lisbon, I am kind of full of myself," he said again.

"Thanks, I'll remember that," Lisbon bantered. She looked at Charlotte. "Come on, sis-"

"Agent Lisbon!"

Everyone turned to see none other than Director Gale Bertram approaching them.

"Director Bertram," Lisbon said.

"I got ahold of Faith Chesterfield," he told Lisbon. "She's waiting to talk to you right now." He pointed.

Lisbon opened her mouth, then closed it. She looked back at her sister, then back to Bertram. "Sir, I, uh-"

"No, go on, Lisbon, I'll keep your sister company," Jane said.

She turned on him. "Yeah, I'm _really_ going to leave you alone with my sister for five minutes," she said mockingly.

"What are you afraid he'll do to me?" Charlotte asked with a naughty twinkle in her eye that both Jane and Lisbon ignored.

"Relax - when you come back, she'll be more or less the same as you left her," Jane told Lisbon; "right now, go talk to whoever you need to talk to."

"She better be _exactly_ the same as I'm leaving her or you'll be in big trouble," Lisbon said pointedly, and she turned back to Bertram. "Thank you, sir, I'll talk to her right now."

Bertram was looking at Charlotte. He gave Lisbon a look. "Do I want to know?" he asked.

"No, sir," Lisbon said.

Bertram nodded. "Alright then," he said, and he left.

Lisbon turned to Charlotte. "I'll be right back, sis," she said.

"No need to rush," Jane told her. "Go on."

Lisbon gave Jane one last warning glare before turning and going on her way.


	15. Chapter 13

Faith Chesterfield was waiting in what was normally used as an interview room; apparently, 'as soon as possible' also meant 'improvise'. When Lisbon came in, Faith looked surprised.

"Hi, I'm Agent Lisbon," Lisbon said, sitting down across from Faith and holding out her hand.

"Faith Chesterfield," Faith said, shaking her hand.

Lisbon had never actually met this particular prosecutor before, and there was something about her that seemed…odd. Lisbon couldn't quite put her finger on it.

She decided to ignore it.

"Thank you for agreeing to talk to me, I know this happened on short notice," Lisbon said.

Faith nodded. "I'm told you wanted me to try a special case?"

"I'm the agent in charge of the investigation into the serial killer called Red John," Lisbon told Faith; "earlier today, we made an arrest, but the defendant is very rich, powerful, and resourceful - nailing him will not be easy."

"I've heard of Red John," Faith said, a glint appearing in her eye. "I've heard about the things he does…You want me to prosecute his case? I would be more than happy to."

"There _is_ a catch," Lisbon said; "that's why I wanted to talk to you in advance. You see, a longtime coworker of mine is _extremely_ invested in this case…"

"Patrick Jane?" Faith asked with a half-smile.

Lisbon nodded, smiling back. "Yeah, that's him," she said. "You've probably heard horror stories about how badly he mangles evidence, but he _is_ capable of being serious and professional when he wants to be, and in this case he's going to do everything he can to bring Red John down."

Faith nodded. "I heard he once murdered a man he mistakenly believed to be Red John," she said, her tone indecipherable.

Lisbon nodded. "Yes, I can confirm that that did happen," she admitted.

"So what does this have to do with _me_?" Faith asked.

Lisbon hesitated, suddenly conscious of just exactly what she was about to ask of this woman. "He…has a plan," she said at last, "one that will take Red John down without any further casualties - even if convicted, Red John _will_ escape, and he's promised to go on a killing spree if it comes to that, but Jane has a plan that he says will stop him."

"What exactly _is_ his plan?" Faith asked.

"I…don't actually know," Lisbon said slowly, only just realizing this. "He gave me some directions with little to no explanation, and I can guess at some of it, but what he'll ask of _you_, I don't know."

"Ask of _me_?" Faith repeated.

Lisbon took a breath, then said, "He says that…in order for his plan to work, whoever prosecutes for this case needs to do _exactly_ as he says, nothing more, nothing less, nothing else," she told Faith. "I was wondering if you'd be willing to do that - I've heard that you get emotionally invested in these things, I thought that maybe you'd understand and be willing to work with him."

Faith gave her an odd look. "You want _me_…to just…do _whatever_ he says, no matter what?" she asked.

"I _need_ you to," Lisbon said, "or I'll have to ask someone else to prosecute for the case." When Faith just looked at her, she said, "How about you talk to him, hear _him_ out on what his plan is, and then decide? We really need this arranged as soon as possible, Ms. Chesterfield."

Faith thought for a minute. "If you…really want me to, I'll…hear him out," she finally conceded, and Lisbon couldn't quite decipher her tone or expression. _Jane'll be able to figure it out, I'm sure,_ she thought as she stood to go; _he needs to be the one to talk to this girl anyway._

She was opening the door when Faith spoke up.

"Agent Lisbon?" she asked.

Lisbon turned back to her and closed the door. "Yes?"

"Do you…_trust_, Mr. Jane?" she asked hesitantly.

_Trust_. There was that treacherous word again. It was a loaded question, and Lisbon knew her answer had to be the right one. She hesitated.

"Let me put it this way," she said at last: "I might not trust him with my _career_, but I _do_ trust him with my _life_. And I trust him to be able to bring Red John down by whatever means necessary."

Faith nodded. "Okay," she said.

"Alright," Lisbon said, nodding back and smiling. "Thanks."

As soon as she was through the door, she all but ran back to the office space - trust or no, one thing she _wouldn't_ trust Jane with was her sister, not when he had so much fun messing with people's heads and Charlotte was so impressionable…

~o~

Charlotte put down the boxes of Red John's case file on Van Pelt's desk, as Jane's was occupied with Garcia's computers.

She couldn't believe she was going to have some time alone with _Patrick_ _Jane_. On top of that, _her_ _own_ _sister_ was Patrick Jane's boss! The man was a legend in the reporting world - whatever he did, wherever he went, there were guaranteed to be good stories to be had. Not all of them put him in the best of light, but it was common knowledge that, with his help, the CBI team he worked with caught more murderers than any other investigative team or individual in the state.

_Her_ _sister's_ team.

"Charlotte?"

Charlotte half-jumped, then turned to Jane and smiled. "Yes?"

"Before anything else, can I ask you something?" he asked.

"You just did," she bantered, smiling.

He grinned, his handsome face crinkling adorably with amusement. Then he sobered again and asked, "Was Lisbon always such a, uh, stick in the mud?"

Charlotte giggled, then sighed. "Yep," she replied, "Terry was always the serious one." She paused, then went on, "And the strong one." She shrugged. "_And_ the smart one."

"And _you_ were always the pretty one, the fun one, the social one - the complete polar opposite of her, but instead of being at odds, you complement each other, essentially make up for one another's shortcomings," Jane said; "you couldn't possibly be closer as sisters even if you were actually related."

Charlotte blinked. "Uh…yeah," she said. "How did you…?"

"Oh, I could go on," Jane said dismissively.

Charlotte crossed her arms and smirked. "Please do," she teased; in truth, she had heard of Patrick Jane's special abilities, and she wanted to see them for herself.

"Uh, okay," Jane said. "You were born to a broken family, your parents were married but it was a forced marriage following your mother's pregnancy. You were told stories of a time when they loved each other, even still have a souvenir they gave you symbolizing such a time - a child's toy or stuffed animal of some sort - but by the time of your earliest memory, that love had passed. They fought constantly, never took it out on you but didn't pay as much attention to you as they should have; you were still young when child services took you from them and put you in a foster home. Your new family wasn't terrible - slightly better than your real parents had been, even - but still, you felt lonely. A few years passed, including the start of high school, during which you were more or less happy, and then your family decided to take in a second foster child: Lisbon.

"You were excited to have a sister, someone to talk to, but you didn't get along at first - she was quiet, withdrawn, sad; you later learned about the circumstances that put her in a foster home for the last few years of her teenhood, but at first you felt brushed off and ignored. She came around in her own time - there was no dramatic breakthrough, it was all very gradual, but eventually you became close friends. You were always trying to get her to cheer up and have more fun in life, and _she_ was always trying to get _you_ to be more serious and practical, and you generally met each other halfway. You knew you could talk to each other about absolutely anything and trust the other to listen, understand, and, when relevant, keep a secret. When boys started bothering you, breaking your hearts and generally being typical teenage boy jerks, you had each other to help you through it, and together you made a pact of some sort, one you still hold to to this day even after you cut contact with each other, the token of your pact being those crosses you both always wear around your necks - the necklaces were your idea, but you both have held to it. The fact that you still wear them somehow means that neither of you have found the men you want to marry yet, nor even come close. For the record, Lisbon has done next to no looking; you on the other hand have tried many, many times, but every guy you date somehow fails to meet the criteria you and Lisbon set for yourselves, so badly so that you find yourself getting hopeful if you make it to a third date. I have some advice for you regarding that, but I'll get to it in a minute.

"She went into law enforcement virtually as soon as she was able - it was her career goal almost from the start - but _you_ weren't so sure what you wanted to do with your life for the longest time, until you realized that there was one centrally important thing about you: your curiosity. You never stop asking questions, you _love_ finding answers, and while you're normally pretty easygoing, you can be driven when you have to be in order to find the answer to a question. Law enforcement was more Lisbon's thing, not really for you, too exciting and violent; and science bored you, with all its big words and complicated subjects that in your opinion aren't really relevant to anything at all; so, you became an investigative reporter, a person whose sole job is to ask questions and hunt down the answers.

"Unfortunately, Lisbon was a cop, and reporters and cops tend to have…well, an uneasy relationship. You tried to tell her that you wouldn't take advantage of being her sister to get stories, but she was more worried about what her superiors would think of her having a reporter for a sister, whether you _actually_ took advantage of your connection or not; for the sake of her career, she felt that she had to completely cut contact with you and forget you ever existed. Neither of you were happy about it, but you talked and ultimately decided to agree that it really was for the best. You haven't even kept track of her progress through the law enforcement system since - hearing about her but not being able to talk to her would have been too painful, so, like her, you've tried to pretend you never knew her. But even though it's been almost twenty years since you stopped talking, when she called you, you both found that you could talk to each other just as easily as you always did." He smiled. "Truly sisters at heart, a bond just as strong as blood, and that's exactly how it should be."

Charlotte stared at him, her jaw on the floor, completely at a loss for words.

"Don't tell your sister I did this, or she'll kill me," Jane added with a conspiratorial wink after a moment.

"Did what?" Charlotte heard herself ask faintly.

"Read you," Jane replied. "She thinks I'm hopelessly addicted to messing with people's heads, and she's not entirely inaccurate; if she comes back and finds you still staring at me, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, I will be in _huge_ trouble, and while that's not so important on its own, things kind of need to be done as quickly as possible right now, so I don't have time for a lecture or worse."

Charlotte clamped her mouth shut.

"Anyway, about the guys thing," Jane went on, "correct me if I'm wrong: You're rather adverse to dating guys because of your consistently bad experiences, so instead of taking the initiative, you wait for guys to ask _you_ out, right?"

"Yeah," Charlotte said, still in shock.

"Bad idea," Jane told her. "Incredibly beautiful women like you attract bad guys worse than honey attracts flies, and the sort of guys who approach beautiful girls and ask them out tend to be bad or at the very least shallow - you want to try dating someone who _doesn't_ ask you out, _doesn't_ look at you like you're the star of their most erotic fantasy, even acts shy around you. Of course, this means _you'll_ have to ask _them_ out, but that makes it that much more likely that whoever you date will be someone you'll actually want to spend time with."

Charlotte felt her face turn bright red. "You think I'm beautiful?" she heard herself ask breathlessly.

Jane smiled. "Charlotte, you are heart-stoppingly gorgeous, that is a statement of fact and not at all an exaggeration," he told her. "Unfortunately, beauty does come with a bit of a price, generally in the form of being targeted by people who care _only_ about looks and nothing else."

"I, uh, I guess you'd know from experience, huh?" she tried to joke, still blushing terribly.

Instead of laughing, Jane's smile faltered, and he looked away. "Mmm…no," he said, shaking his head; "not really." He looked up at her again, but he seemed a bit sadder than before. Suddenly, Charlotte remembered what had happened to his family, and she had a sudden urge to throw herself out the window. Of all the insensitive things she could have said!

Just then, Lisbon came back.

"Jane," she said.

"Yes, Lisbon?" Jane asked, turning.

"Faith Chesterfield is waiting to talk to you, she says she's willing to hear you out but won't make any promises," Lisbon told him.

"Okay…" Jane said slowly. "And Faith Chesterfield is…?"

"A prosecuting attorney, the best I could think of that might be willing to do as you say," Lisbon replied.

"Oh!" Jane said brightly. "Excellent! I was going to ask you how the setting things up was going, but it seems you just answered my question. I'll talk to her now. You, meanwhile, need to get your sister and that case file out of here."

"Yes, I know," Lisbon said. She looked at Charlotte. "Ready to go, sis?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah," Charlotte said, going to pick up the boxes again.

"It was _very_ nice to meet you, Charlotte," Jane said, smiling at her. "I look forward to being interviewed by you about the case."

"Oh, uh, yeah," Charlotte stammered; she had completely forgotten that that would have to happen sooner or later. "Me too."

Jane's smile widened. "Bye," he told her, and he turned and walked away.

"Bye," Charlotte said after him.

Lisbon looked from Jane to Charlotte. Before she could say anything, though, Charlotte took a step closer to her and asked in a low voice, "_How_ can you still be wearing your necklace with a man like _him_ around?"

"Charlie!" Lisbon exclaimed.

"I'm serious, sis!" Charlotte said as they started to walk to the elevators at last. "That man is incredible!"

"Well, maybe _you_ should date him, then," Lisbon bantered.

"Oh, no," Charlotte said, shaking her head and smiling; "_you_ saw him first."

"But I don't _want_ him," Lisbon said, smiling back.

"How could you not want-?"

"Trust me," Lisbon told her as the elevator doors closed; "it's not hard."

~o~

The moment Jane saw Faith Chesterfield, he knew she was the perfect prosecutor for the case. When he introduced himself and shook her hand, his suspicions about why were confirmed.

He gave her a shrewd half-smile before he released her hand. "Perfect," he said.

"Excuse me?" Faith asked, taking her hand back.

"You don't like males, do you, Faith?" Jane asked as he sat down, smiling fully now. "You're an androphobe - a man-hater."

Faith blinked. "I…"

"Oh no, it's not an insult - in fact, it makes you perfect for this case," Jane told her; "the only obvious problem is that _I_ am a man, so before anything else…" He became very serious. "Don't think of me as a man," he said; "think of me as a fellow human being, gender completely aside, with one purpose, a single mission in life: to make sure that Red John never hurts anyone ever again."

"And that's all you want?" Faith asked.

"Well, no," Jane said, "I also want to make sure he's adequately punished for the things he's done, which will be just as difficult…but you can understand that, right? I know you can."

Faith looked at him. He met her eyes; there were several snarky jokes he could make, but he'd promised Lisbon that he would only do or say things with the intent of taking Red John down, and he couldn't afford to alienate this woman any more than his Y chromosome already naturally did.

A minute passed. Jane hoped that she would see in him the same determination she herself had: to make sure that bad men were stopped and punished. He tried to convey this with his eyes, but without words, he couldn't be sure she'd get the message.

"What's your plan?" she finally asked in a flat voice.

Jane leaned forward. "I need to call the shots," he told her; "I need the jury to listen to me, and _only_ to me. To that end…" He told her his plan.

When he was done, she shook her head. "That is a plan doomed to fail if I ever heard one," she said; "it's crazy!"

"Yes," Jane said, "maybe just crazy enough to work."

Faith was silent.

Jane smiled. "What do you say?" he asked. "Will you work with me?"

"…You're _sure_ you'll be able to make this work in favor of ending Red John?" she asked guardedly.

"Absolutely," he told her, dead serious; "if this goes as I'm hoping it does, Red John won't have a chance to do _anything_."

"I'll hold you to that," Faith said.

"So you'll do it?" Jane asked, trying to contain his excitement.

Faith sighed. "Yes, Mr. Jane, I'll handle prosecuting the case like you want me to," she said; "but for the record, if it _costs_ us this case, I will hunt you down and make you regret it."

"If Red John walks or escapes, you won't have to make me regret it," Jane told her, standing up; "he'll make sure that's covered himself."

Faith nodded and stood, and together, they left.

Preliminary projects one and two were down; all that remained was preliminary project three. For that, Jane gathered the BAU and Lisbon when she returned from sending her sister off with the case file.

…And prayed that things would continue to go as smoothly as they had so far.


	16. Chapter 14

Van Pelt was sitting in the break area, staring into space. She felt slightly better by being in a place more people went through, but…well, "slightly better" is nothing when you're Red John's ideal prey.

She remembered the blade of his knife against her cheek…He could have cut her, he'd _wanted_ to, and the only reason he hadn't was because he wouldn't have been able to enjoy it if he had. He wanted - _needed_ - people to suffer. His conscience…so twisted…

"Grace?"

Van Pelt jumped, startled, and looked up to see Rigsby standing beside her, looking at her with concern.

"Oh, uh, hey," she said, forcing a smile.

"Hey," he said with an equally fake smile, pulling a chair over to sit beside her. "How are you holding up?"

She gave a mortified laugh. "Red John wants to cut me up," she said; "how do you think?"

"He's not going to get you," Rigsby told her. "Even if the legal system fails, _I_ won't let him."

But Van Pelt could only laugh hopelessly, helplessly. "He'd rip you to pieces before you could even fire a gun," she said.

Rigsby reached over and took her hand, much as Lisbon had done. "He won't get you," he repeated, firmly.

She squeezed his hand back, appreciating what he was at least _trying_ to do. "Thanks," she said, not completely insincerely.

Rigsby nodded. Then he hesitated, as though there was something he wanted to ask but he wasn't sure it was a good idea to ask it.

"What?" Van Pelt asked him.

Rigsby looked at her and sighed. His eyes filled with apology, he hesitantly asked, "What did he mean? About…you know…being afraid to love me because of something that happened to you?"

Van Pelt shut her eyes and swallowed hard. "I don't know," she said, a bit too quickly.

"Okay," Rigsby said softly. She opened her eyes, looked at him…He knew she was lying, but he wouldn't push her any harder - he was nice like that, almost gallant. And suddenly, Van Pelt wanted to tell him.

"I've had some bad experiences with guys in the past," she said abruptly; "while I was growing up. It wasn't unusual for guys to approach me, ask me out, tell me they loved me…"

"Oh, I'm sure," Rigsby said. "You're beautiful, of course lots of guys would be attracted to you."

Van Pelt smiled at him in spite of herself. "Yeah, well, that was all they cared about - my looks," she said. "None of them cared much about who I was, how I felt…Some of them even…assumed that, because I was pretty, I was also…" She hesitated, blushing. "…well, easy."

"Easy?" Rigsby asked, confused. He thought for a second. Then, his eyes lit up with understanding. "Oh," he said. He hesitated, then asked, "Did any of them…?"

"Oh, I wasn't raped or anything like that," Van Pelt said quickly; "it's just that…it felt like it came close, once or twice, a-and even if it didn't, it always ended badly somehow."

Rigsby nodded, understanding, and more and more so with every moment. It explained the cold, contemptuous side of her he'd seen when she faced killers or other sorts of scum, not to mention how volatile her mood had been when they had been trying to choose between their relationship and their jobs, especially when he'd talked about having seniority.

Van Pelt took a breath, then said, "You said it yourself…You loved me from the moment you first met me," she said. "But…how could you? You didn't know anything about me except what I looked like. That's…what he meant, I guess. That was my first reaction, at least."

"I see," Rigsby said, nodding again. He hesitated to ask the rest of his question, but Van Pelt guessed it, and she figured she owed him the explanation.

"Craig was different," she told Rigsby. "He didn't take one look at me and suddenly decide he wanted me. The only reason we ever talked about anything more personal than our jobs at first was because he'd known my father." She bit her lip, suddenly remembering everything. "I guess he knew that that would…win me over," she said.

"Yeah," Rigsby said, "or Red John knew, at least."

Van Pelt closed her eyes against her tears. "I still…can't believe that all that time, he was only trying to…help Red John get me," she said, her voice cracking.

Rigsby wanted to lie, but he knew Van Pelt would see through it if he did. Instead, he said, "I saw…some signs, at times, that he wasn't who he said he was. I wanted to tell you, too, but I was afraid that I was just seeing things because I was jealous. I didn't want to…ruin your happiness over nothing." He sighed. "I should have trusted my instincts," he lamented.

"Wayne, don't blame yourself," Van Pelt told him. "You did what you thought was right. I probably wouldn't have listened to you if you'd tried to tell me anyway."

"Thanks," Rigsby said, smiling at her.

She smiled back.

~o~

With Jane and the BAU standing by, Lisbon called the courthouse secretary. Jane had insisted that she do the best she could on her own before he or the FBI started pushing things, though he wouldn't say why. Lisbon had promised to trust him, so she did as he said, but she had no idea what she could possibly do or say to get the trial fast-tracked.

"Technically, a person can't be tried for murder or any high-level crime less than forty-eight hours after arrest," Reid had said.

"Forty-eight hours is perfect," Jane had said in response, and Lisbon had been instructed to ask for that timeframe.

_Ring…Ring…Click._

Lisbon was greeted by an actual person instead of an answering service, which boded well - at the very least, it meant she'd be able to argue the point.

"Hi, I'm Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon, I'm with the CBI," she said into the phone. "There's, uh, recently been an arrest in a, uh, very significant case; what's the earliest the defendant can be put on trial? I mean, how much of a wait list is there?" She looked at Jane. "Three months?"

_No!_ Jane mouthed, shaking his head furiously.

Lisbon nodded at him. "Is there some way it could be done sooner? It's _really_ important that we get this guy on trial yesterday…Oh, uh, he's a serial killer - Red John, have you heard of him?" Lisbon blinked. "Okay then, sorry I didn't…" She looked at Jane again. "One month, in that case?"

Again, Jane shook his head.

"I'm sorry, that's still not soon enough," Lisbon said. "I, uh, I'm told that, wait lists notwithstanding, the soonest a person can legally go on trial is forty-eight hours after arrest - is there any way to make that happen?…There's nothing you can do, nothing at all? Please, ma'am, we need to get this done…Uh, it's complicated.…Okay…Well, whose place is it to decide, then?…Okay, and who would be the most likely to be willing to change their schedule? A list of names would be good…" She quickly grabbed a pen and a pad of paper from nearby desks. She couldn't see because her back was turned, but Jane was grinning at her.

She quickly jotted down a list of eleven names and numbers. "Alright, thank you very much," Lisbon said. "Bye." She hung up.

Jane clapped. "Bravo," he said. "Way to persevere, Lisbon."

"We don't have the date set yet," Lisbon pointed out, turning to him.

"No, but you said the right things and asked the right questions," Jane said, still smiling at her; "I couldn't have done it better myself."

The BAU looked at Jane, surprised; Lisbon almost blushed.

"Go on, Lisbon, you're doing a fantastic job," Jane urged after a moment.

"Oh! Right," Lisbon said, dialing the first number on the list.

"Who are you calling, anyway?" Garcia asked.

"Most likely a judge," Reid answered for Lisbon.

"Yeah, the courthouse secretary said it's up to individual judges to decide what trials they oversee when," Lisbon said.

"Is that true?" Morgan asked.

"I have no idea," Reid said, his brow furrowed.*

Jane hushed them before they could say more as Lisbon's call went through.

The first judge refused to negotiate with Lisbon, holding hard and fast to his official schedule. The second sympathized, and would have been willing to hold the trial in a week, but that still wasn't enough for Jane, and the judge wouldn't go earlier than that, saying he'd already put a lot of planning into his schedule before then. Lisbon half-begged Jane to handle the next one, but he refused, saying that it was best if Lisbon could do it by herself.

"Just try," he told her; "if we run out of names, _then_ we'll figure something else out."

"Then what are they here for?" Lisbon asked, gesturing to the BAU.

"Whether or not they'll be able to stay to help see this through depends on us being able to get Red John on trial the day after tomorrow," Jane replied. "If only because it concerns them almost more than it does anyone else, they ought to be here."

"That and we have nothing else to do right now," JJ added; "we can't even start preparing testimony until we know we'll actually be able to testify."

Lisbon sighed and dialed the third number. The other end picked up almost instantly.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Judge Peterson?" Lisbon asked, reading off the name on the list.

"Yes?"

"Hi, I'm Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon with the CBI," Lisbon introduced herself. "We recently made an arrest for the Red John case - do you know Red John?"

"Even if I hadn't before today, I do now," Judge Peterson said dryly; "he's all over the news."

Lisbon smiled, pleased with how quickly her sister had been able to work. "Yes, well, we made an arrest today, but we need to get him on trial as soon as legally possible," she told the judge; "I'm told that's forty-eight hours after arrest. The thing is, even as a high priority, the earliest he'd normally be able to go on trial is a month from now, and that won't work. I was wondering if you'd be willing to alter your schedule to oversee the trial the day after tomorrow."

"And what makes you think I have that power?" he asked.

"I called the courthouse secretary, and she told me it's up to the discretion of individual judges to make changes in the official schedule," Lisbon replied.

"Ah," he said, "so you've done your homework." He paused. "Agent, exactly how important is it that this trial be held the day after tomorrow?"

"It's absolutely vital," Lisbon replied; "Mark Doe - Red John - is very smart, and the less time we give him to come up with a foolproof defense, the better."

"Mark Doe, eh?" Peterson said thoughtfully.

There was silence over the line for a minute. Lisbon waited nervously, glancing at Jane, who nodded at her and smiled, letting her know that she was doing well.

"Tell me, Agent Lisbon," Peterson said at last, "how far exactly are you willing to go to get this trial scheduled for the time you're asking for?"

_What?_ "Uh, there's pretty much nothing I wouldn't do, if that's what you're asking," Lisbon answered hesitantly.

"Would you marry me to do it?" he asked.

"_What_?!" Lisbon exclaimed.

"There has to be something in it for me," Peterson said, and Lisbon could almost see him shrug.

"You don't even know me!" Lisbon argued.

"I know enough," Peterson said cryptically. "Keep in mind, if you marry a judge, your superiors won't be too happy - it may well get you fired, permanently. With that in mind, do you accept the terms?"

Lisbon blinked, completely bewildered. She thought fast. "If I say yes, you'll try Red John's case the day after tomorrow?" she asked.

"Oh, absolutely," Peterson assured her; "I won't let anyone make me do otherwise."

Lisbon took a breath, her hand on her necklace. "Okay then," she said.

"You accept?"

"If that's what it takes to get this trial going the day after tomorrow, then yes," Lisbon answered.

"Are you sure?"

"_Yes_," Lisbon said firmly, hardly able to believe what she was agreeing to but certain all the same. _No sacrifice is too great,_ she reminded herself; _you've already sacrificed a lot more than this as it is._

"Very well then," Peterson said. "I'll try Red John the day after tomorrow, no strings attached."

Lisbon blinked. "No strings attached?" she repeated, utterly confused.

Peterson chuckled. "You haven't done _all_ your homework, Agent," he said; "I'm happily married already."

"What? But - but then why would you ask-?!" Lisbon sputtered.

"Miss Lisbon, I've heard a lot about you," Peterson said; "I hear you're very professional and extremely committed to your job. If you would really be willing to give up your entire career to get this man on trial that soon, that says a lot about how serious and important this matter is; therefore, I will treat as being serious and important likewise."

Lisbon was speechless.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll get to work reorganizing my schedule right now," Peterson said.

"Uh, yes, of course," Lisbon said, "thank you so much." _I think._

"You're very welcome," Peterson said. "Goodbye."

"Bye," Lisbon said.

And then the call was over.

Lisbon stood where she was for a moment, completely dumbstruck. Then, she turned to Jane.

"Well, Jane," she said, "I think you and this judge are going to get along _very_ well."

Jane grinned. "So he'll do it?" he asked.

Lisbon nodded. "He'll do it."

"That's great, Lisbon, outstanding work," he said sincerely. "See? I knew you could do it without help."

Lisbon just shook her head. They had the perfect judge, at least, that much was certain…

"You'll have to tell me how that conversation went at some point," Jane added, chuckling.

"Not right now, thanks," Lisbon said, still slightly in shock.

Jane stood and turned to the gathered Federal Agents. "Hotch, your phone, please?" he said.

Hotch dialed Chief Strauss and handed Jane his phone. Again, Jane put it on speaker phone.

"Yes?" came Chief Strauss's voice, not quite as haughty as normal.

"Hi, it's me again, Patrick Jane," Jane said.

"Oh, good," she said, "I was hoping you'd call soon."

Jane smiled. "We got the trial set for the day after tomorrow," he told her. "Will it be okay if your team stays long enough to testify?"

"Certainly," Chief Strauss said. "I did as you said and took a look in the news…I hope you manage to put an end to him."

"Oh, we will," he Jane assured her.

Reid leaned into his team. "She's not concerned about the potential political backlash?" he asked under his breath.

"Mark Doe is rich and well-respected, but he's not very famous, or a politician," Morgan muttered.

"Plus, Jane's playing her like a fiddle," Rossi added in a whisper; "she's on his side first and thinking of politics second - he made sure of that before she could know how important Mark Doe is."

"I wish _I_ could do that," Hotch murmured.

The team chuckled quietly.

"I will personally make sure your team gets back to you as soon as possible," Jane was saying to Strauss. "We all want this to be over soon, and that's what we're going to be working towards. And again, we're _extremely_ grateful for your help and flexibility in this matter - thank you _very_ much, we owe you."

"Jane!" Lisbon mouthed, alarmed.

He held up a finger.

"I'm glad the BAU has been such a help," Strauss said.

"Yes," Jane said, "well, I'll let you get back to your own job. Thank you again."

"Goodbye, Agent Jane," Strauss said, her tone almost friendly.

Jane smiled. "Goodbye," he said, and the call ended. Jane handed Hotch's phone back to him.

"You really have her wrapped around your little finger," he commented.

Jane chuckled. "She's proud and likes to be in control - _very_ exploitable weaknesses," he said modestly.

"Where have you been all our lives?" Rossi asked, half-teasingly.

Jane chuckled again, then looked around and gave everyone a smile. "Well, I need to go," he said; "if you need me, I'll be on the courthouse steps."

"Why are you going to the courthouse?" Lisbon asked as he walked away.

He turned back. "Because there's nothing else I need to do today," he replied. "Oh! Tell your sister where I'll be, won't you?" he added quickly.

"But why?" Lisbon asked.

"So she can find me," Jane said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I mean, why will you be there?" Lisbon amended, exasperated.

"Just part of the plan," Jane said cryptically with a smile.

And then he left.

~o~

As it turned out, getting Red John into the media and out to the public wasn't nearly as much work for Charlotte as some might have expected…

~30 Minutes Earlier~

Charlotte heaved the two boxes onto her boss's desk and dropped them with a _thump!_

Her boss looked up from what she was doing. Her eyes narrowed at the boxes. "What's this?" she asked Charlotte.

Charlotte grinned. "This is the _entire_, _official_ CBI case file for the serial killer known as Red John," she told her boss. She opened the top box and pulled out one of the tapes to show her. "_Plus_, two hours of interview tape discussing the most recent breakthroughs in the case, including the recent arrest of Dr. Mark Doe, who has been charged with being Red John," she added.

Her boss, Marilen, blinked. Then she blinked again.

"How…did you get this?" she asked at last.

"Oh, uh, I know the lead investigator of the Red John case," Charlotte answered. "I haven't spoken to her in eighteen years - I mean, she's a cop, I'm a reporter, and neither of us wanted her job to be compromised by that…but she called me and asked for my help, then gave this to me."

Marilen was silent, trying to take this all in.

Charlotte hesitated, then added, "There _is_ a catch."

"What?" Marilen asked darkly.

But Charlotte smiled. "She wants _all_ of this - every single bit of information in both of these boxes - to be shared with _every_ news network in the state _and_ every _national_ news network we can get ahold of," she told Marilen. "_All_ of this information needs to be _everywhere_, and it needs to be everywhere _as_ _soon_ _as_ _possible_."

Marilen was shocked.

Figuring taking advantage of this wasn't a bad idea, Charlotte added, "Listen, I'm going to need some help with this…The first thing I need is for all of these papers to be photocopied so I can return the originals to my, uh, informant before she gets in trouble. After that, getting all of this information everywhere would be a huge task for me to do on my own…I could really use as much help as I can get."

Marilen thought for a minute. Charlotte waited, trying not to show her nervousness. Finally, without a word, Marilen stood, then walked out from behind her desk and out of her office into the space where dozens of reporters were working at papers or computers on whatever stories they were researching.

"Listen up!" she called.

It took a minute for everyone to settle down and give her their attention, but they did.

Marilen gestured for Charlotte to bring the boxes out. Charlotte did so, still nervous. Marilen then gestured to her so all the other reporters could see.

"It seems that Charlotte here has managed to get her hands on the official CBI case file for the serial killer known as Red John, as well as information surrounding a recent arrest made in the case," she told everyone. Ignoring the numerous gasps following this announcement, she went on, "Charlotte apparently knows the lead investigator of the case, so I'm putting her in charge of this story; as for all of you, drop whatever you're doing and help her get this information photocopied and out to the public - _this_ is your assignment now, _all_ of you."

Charlotte's eyes widened.

"Get to work," Marilen ordered everyone. "Now."

And suddenly, everyone was standing up and rushing over to Charlotte to take the boxes she held.

"Everyone slow down!" Charlotte tried to call over the chaos as Marilen went back into her office. "Please try not to rip or damage anything - this stuff is valuable! Get it all photocopied first, then get the originals all back in the boxes and give them back to me!"

They heard her order, and by some miracle, they obeyed. Charlotte watched in amazement as every reporter she knew sprang to do her bidding…her _sister's_ bidding.

_This is going to be much easier than we thought,_ Charlotte thought, dazed.

* * *

***This is a reference to the fact that everything in this part of the story is TOTAL bs on my part - I have no idea whatsoever what the actual protocols are for any of the things in this chapter, I do not claim any of it to be accurate, and I hope you'll be willing to accept my bs for the sake of the story as a whole. Thank you very much.**


	17. Chapter 15

**Okay, I know things are slowing down quite a bit; this next chapter is mostly pointless fluff, I'll just admit that right now. I just wanted to put in some backstory, add a little more depth to everything…I promise, I AM going somewhere with all of this.**

**Also, I edited the foreword to mention some other things I do or don't acknowledge as canon…that I would have forgotten to mention if I hadn't written this pointless chapter. :P Go glance at it at some point, if you haven't seen it already. Thank you. :)**

* * *

An hour later, Charlotte was giving Lisbon back the boxes of Red John's case file, telling her about how she had been put in charge of everyone.

"I tried to make sure everything got copied without damaging anything," Charlotte said worriedly, "but…well…they're all so eager." She smiled. "I don't blame them," she told her sister; "this is _huge_! I just hope nothing got ripped…"

"I'm sure it's fine, Charlie," Lisbon reassured her. In any case, even if it wasn't, there was nothing that could be done about it now. "And I'm glad you were able to get this circulating so quickly! By the time I tried to fast-track Red John's trial, everyone I talked to had heard about the case and the story - about a half hour after I got you out of here with these."

"Fast-track the trial?" Charlotte asked, a familiar twinkle of curiosity in her blue eyes.

Lisbon smiled, set down the boxes, and told her sister about calling around and the judge who seemed to enjoy mind games about as much as Patrick Jane himself. It felt so good to talk and laugh - and they did laugh, both of them, at several points in her story - and not have to be so serious about everything, constantly working and driving things forward.

_"…You don't have fun often enough…"_

Red John's voice drifted through her head, but for a change, Lisbon didn't even falter - she just brushed it aside and kept talking to her sister.

"So," Charlotte said when she was done, "you were willing to break our pledge just to get Red John on trial sooner?"

"Yes, not that Judge Peterson knew about that part," Lisbon said. She sobered. "Seriously, sis, Red John is a monster, and he needs to be stopped - nothing is more important than that. I…have to trust that Jane's plan will work, and put as much into making it happen as he will."

Charlotte tilted her head. "I know you're keeping something from me, you know," she said, much to Lisbon's surprise. "In the interview, you said some things that didn't add up…I figured there was something that you were trying to keep off the record."

"There is," Lisbon admitted. "Jane doesn't want me to talk about it, and I don't really want to talk about it myself…Maybe if we stay in contact after this is all over, I'll tell you."

"We'll _have_ to stay in contact now, sis," Charlotte said, crossing her arms. "My boss won't let me not be."

"Well, let's hope _my_ boss is somehow okay with it," Lisbon said, a pit forming in her gut. "I mean, my position is a lot more secure now than it was eighteen years ago…"

"Senior Agent…" Charlotte shook her head, smiling. "I never really thought you'd be the sort of person to _give_ orders."

"Well, I only give orders that are based on the rules I still have to follow," Lisbon said.

Charlotte nodded, an odd look on her face. "I just…hope you still have fun every now and then," she said.

Lisbon opened her mouth to confess that no, she didn't, not really…but then she thought of all the things Jane had done for her, annoying though they sometimes were, that kept her human and alive…and of Red John, who had lured her out of her shell for whatever twisted reason, giving her a social life all the same…

"Sometimes," she finally admitted. "Not often, but, sometimes."

"Good," Charlotte said. "I'm glad."

Lisbon smiled back but didn't explain the irony of Charlotte's words. She bent down and picked up the boxes again. "I need to get these back inside, a lot of it's going to be used as evidence in the trial," she told Charlotte.

"I'll get back to work and make sure everything's circulating well," Charlotte said, nodding.

Lisbon smiled. "Bye, sis."

"Bye."

As she watched her sister drive away, Lisbon thought about that old pledge they had made…

~X~

"No way!"

"I swear to god, that's what he said, word for word!"

17-year-old Teresa Lisbon and her sister Charlotte laughed.

"So what did you say to him?" Teresa asked when she could speak again.

"I told him he could go enjoy himself right out of my sight," Charlotte replied, still laughing.

Teresa was sent into hysterics, her sister right along with her. It took a couple of minutes before their giggles died down.

They were sitting in the shade of some trees, ocean waves crashing on a sunny beach beside them. They talked here all the time; it was their own sort-of-secret place. Charlotte had just told Teresa about her most recent almost-boyfriend disaster - she had had many, but this had been one of the craziest ones.

Teresa hadn't had any. She was always focused on achieving her goals, getting good grades, excelling in extracurricular activities, generally being responsible…Besides, her sister's horror stories gave her more than enough reason to want to avoid boys anyway.

When at last their laughter subsided, Teresa shook her head. "Man, what a perv," she said; "I thought Dylan was bad, but _this_ was just…_stupid_! How could Rob possibly think that anything positive would come of him saying that to you?"

"People don't think like that, sis," Charlotte said dismissively. "Most of us just say what we feel…boys worst of all."

"What, I'm not people?" Teresa asked teasingly.

"Well, you only act like one about half the time," Charlotte bantered.

Teresa laughed and shoved at her sister playfully - they were growing up, but they weren't adults yet, and only Charlotte could get Teresa to act her age. Charlotte laughed and shoved back, and they fell into a tussle for a minute before finally recovering and being able to speak again.

"So," Charlotte said at last, "that was a _complete_ disaster, I am _so_ sorry I ever would have even given him the time of day…and I think this was bad enough to prove that we need a plan."

"'We'?" Teresa asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You're not going to spend the rest of your life alone, Terry," Charlotte said, rolling her eyes; "sooner or later, you'll meet a guy…"

Teresa shook her head. "I'm better off alone," she said, "especially if the alternative is being pestered by boys like Rob."

Charlotte laughed. "Well, not _all_ boys are bad, I have to believe they aren't," she said.

"So you're just going to keep trying and ending up like this?" Teresa teased.

Charlotte shook her head. "Nope," she said, "I have a better idea."

"Charlie, no offense, but your 'ideas'…" Teresa began.

"No, I swear, I've put a lot of thought into this," Charlotte told her. "I think I have a plan that will weed out all the bad guys…It might be a little excessive, but it'll _work_, and we'll stick to it together, okay? Like, I'll hold to it if you will."

Teresa blinked. "There's really no need," she said; "not for me, at least."

Charlotte rolled her eyes again. "You won't be in school forever," she told her sister, a familiar note of exasperation in her voice; "someday, you'll have spare time - and even if you don't, you can't just isolate yourself." Teresa opened her mouth to protest, but Charlotte overrode her and said, "Look, if it doesn't apply to you, then you should have no trouble sticking to it, and if you will, then so will I."

Teresa sighed. "Alright, I'll hear you out," she relented.

"Good." Charlotte grinned. "Okay, here it is, my idea has three stages, which we never actually tell anyone: First, to weed out the really impatient jerks, we won't kiss a guy unless we've been dating them for at least a year."

Teresa blinked. "When you said 'excessive'…" she muttered loudly.

"I know, I know, but it'll _work_," Charlotte repeated. "Now, I wouldn't know from experience, but there are probably jerks who are more patient than that, so, the second stage is, no sex until at least five years _after_ that."

"So six years total," Teresa said.

"Uh-huh."

"You're impossible."

"It'll _work_," Charlotte insisted.

"Well, I can't say you're wrong about that," Teresa conceded dryly. "And we don't even tell any of this to whoever we're dating?"

"No, because then they'll just count down the days or something," Charlotte said. "They can't know the timeframe is so specific, or it'll be easier for them to wait."

Teresa blinked. "You _have_ thought about this," she said, surprised.

"Don't look so shocked, sis, I'm not just a pretty face," Charlotte chuckled.

She wouldn't say it, but the fact was, Teresa _had_ sometimes wondered about her sister. Not much, but a bit, sometimes…

"So anyway, the third stage…Well, there may be some super-patient jerks, or maybe even guys who don't realize they're jerks until they get what they're really after," Charlotte went on; "so, we don't even get engaged until at least another year after that. Just to be sure."

"So that's seven years of dating before even getting engaged," Teresa said.

"Uh-huh," Charlotte said, smiling, "And seven is a lucky number."

Teresa just laughed. "Really?" she said. "Lucky number? Do you really buy that?"

Charlotte sighed. "Like I said, I know it's kind of excessive, but it _will_ work, and I…I don't want either of us to end up like my parents."

_Oh._ Suddenly, Charlotte's whole idea made perfect sense, and Teresa's incredulous smile vanished. This _was_ serious…Yes, if there was any way to avoid an unwanted marriage, it would be her sister's plan. And really, what could the harm be? What possible downside could this have? Especially for her, when she couldn't see herself being anything but on her own anyway.

"Alright," she said, "I'll buy it."

Charlotte grinned hugely. "Great!" she said, sticking her hand in her pocket.

"What do you have there?" Teresa asked, curious.

Charlotte smiled and pulled out two necklaces, one gold, one silver. On each chain was a cross of the same color; the gold one had a diamond set in the middle, and the silver one had a ruby. Other than the colors, they were identical.

Charlotte handed the silver one to Teresa, who looked at it more closely. "Pretty," she commented. She looked up. "What's this for?"

"So we don't forget," Charlotte said. "We'll wear these until we at least reach stage 3 - _every_ _day_, no matter where we go or what we do."

Teresa shook her head. Her sister had a romantic streak, and there was nothing _really_ wrong with that…

"But first," Charlotte said, sitting a bit straighter.

Teresa smiled, recognizing where this was going.

Sure enough, Charlotte held out her hand. "Sister Pledge?" she prompted.

She looked at her sister's outstretched hand, considering…

"Why not?" she finally said, and she took her sister's hand. "Sister Pledge."

They shook, rubbed fingers, curled all their fingers except their last, moved forward so that their pinkies pushed past each other, hooked them, and pulled back, locking them in a pinkie swear. Like most things, this had been Charlotte's invention, and while Teresa found it silly, she kept to any such promises they made all the same.

They smiled at each other. Then Teresa took back her hand and started putting on the silver necklace.

"Oh, no, sis, _this_ one's yours," Charlotte said quickly, and she moved closer and put the gold necklace around Teresa's neck. Teresa smiled and put the silver one on Charlotte. Another silly gesture that even Teresa could appreciate in spite of herself.

~X~

Lisbon was smiling as she finally brought the two case file boxes back upstairs and set them down. It had been so long ago, and they had been so young and ignorant about how the world worked…but she had kept the memory and the promise, even though she had tried to forget the person she had shared it with.

Minutes later, she was going through the boxes with Faith Chesterfield, ironing out the testimony she would give at the trial. The final statement Faith led Lisbon to surprised her…

~o~

Late that night, when everyone was supposed to go home, Van Pelt hesitated to go to the elevators. She didn't really want to go home, spend the night all by herself while Red John's minions were everywhere…

"Grace?"

For the second time that day, Rigsby's voice startled Van Pelt out of her fearful daze. She turned and forced a smile at him. "Yeah?"

"Are you, uh, okay?" he asked her.

_No._ "I'm fine," she lied.

Rigsby smiled. "No, you're not," he said. "I don't have to be a mentalist like Jane to know that you're not."

Van Pelt smiled back in spite of herself. "I don't really want to go home," she confessed to Rigsby. "I mean…I don't want to be there, all alone, while god knows how many of Red John's friends could be anywhere…"

"But he wouldn't want them to hurt you, right?" Rigsby said, confused. "I mean, he wants to kill you himself, he wouldn't want someone else to do it for him."

"Gee, thanks," Van Pelt said sarcastically.

Rigsby's eyes went wide. "Uh, what I mean is, just, you're safe, yeah?" he stammered. "Red John's in jail right now, you've got nothing to worry about…right?"

"I don't know," Van Pelt said. "I just…" She bit her lip, not wanting to say it. But Rigsby wouldn't laugh at her, that wasn't the sort of person he was. "Wayne…I'm scared," she admitted, looking up at him, her voice cracking.

"Do you want me to go home with you?" The words were out of Rigsby's mouth before he thought about them, and Grace was mildly amused in spite of herself to see the way his eyes widened when he realized what he's said. "Like - uh - I don't mean, like-" he started to babble.

Van Pelt raised a hand to stop him - truth be told, she _did_ appreciate the offer, and would probably even take him up on it - but before either of them could reach an understanding, Rigsby's cell phone rang.

"Uh, excuse me," he stammered, taking out his phone. When he looked down, Van Pelt cracked a fond smile at the relief in his expression. For such a great cop, he could be so awkward sometimes…

"Jane, hi," Rigsby said.

"Hey, Rigsby," Jane said. "Is Van Pelt there?"

Rigsby blinked. "Uh…yeah," he said slowly.

"Great! Put her on, please."

Rigsby blinked again, completely and utterly confused. He held the phone out to Van Pelt. "It's, uh, for you," he stammered.

"What?" Van Pelt took the phone, sharing Rigsby's bewilderment. "Hello?"

"Hey Grace, I was wondering how you're doing."

"Uh…" Van Pelt looked at Rigsby; her bafflement was reflected on his face. "Why…do you ask?"

"Oh, I was just thinking, if you're afraid to be at home alone tonight and don't feel like taking Rigsby home with you, you could have my couch," Jane said, and Van Pelt didn't bother wondering how he knew anything. "If you'd feel safer sleeping in HQ, by all means, take it."

"What about you?" Van Pelt asked.

"Oh, I'm going to stay where I'm at tonight," Jane replied. "I won't be using my couch for a while, in fact, so by all means, if you'd feel safer sleeping there, please do."

"Uh…thanks," Van Pelt said, blushing slightly - Jane was almost territorial about his couch, and that he had offered it to her was a very kind gesture…too kind to turn down in good conscience, even if she had wanted to. "I, uh, I will."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it," Jane said, a smile in his voice. "Have a good night, Grace."

"Yeah, you too," she said, still a bit taken aback.

Jane hung up without another word.

Van Pelt hesitantly handed Rigsby's phone back to him.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"He wanted to tell me that I can sleep on his couch tonight if I'd feel safer here than at home," Van Pelt said.

"Oh." Relief and regret battled behind Rigsby's eyes. Van Pelt smiled.

"You know how he is about his couch," she said; "if he's offering it to me, I should take it."

"Uh, yeah," Rigsby said.

Van Pelt smiled at him. "So, uh…good night," she said.

"Uh, yeah, good night," he said to her as she walked away. He stood where he was for another minute, wondering what in the world had just happened.

Then he went home.


	18. Chapter 16

Doctor Spencer Reid hesitated before going to bed that night. He remembered something Jane had murmured to him on his way out.

_"Make that call while you have time."_

He didn't need to ask what he meant…and he _did_ have time, now, and would have more time tomorrow - as far as he understood, apart from planning out their testimony, the entire BAU would have tomorrow off. But she was probably asleep now…

_If she doesn't answer, she's asleep,_ he thought, sitting on his bed in his hotel room and staring at the cell phone he held in his hand, _in which case, I could…leave her a message…_

Still he hesitated. He was nervous - it had been nine years, after all, and though he remembered her as though he had met her only yesterday, he had an eidetic memory; she may well have forgotten him completely, or at least changed her cell phone number.

_"When you save someone's life, that's not something they're likely to forget."_

Again Jane's words prompted him.

He sighed. This really wasn't easy for him. That Mark Doe could be such a genius and yet also charming and social made him almost jealous. He was fully aware that every second that passed made it even less likely that she would even be available for him to call, but…forcing himself to dial the number was almost physically strenuous. All the same, suddenly, he was holding his phone to his ear.

The phone only rang once before it picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, uh, Lila?" Reid asked, stammering with nervousness. "It, uh, it's Spencer, Doc-Doctor Spencer Reid, uh…D-Do you remember me?

"Spencer?!" Lila's voice immediately raised to an excited pitch. "Oh my god, I haven't heard from you in _forever_! I thought maybe you'd forgotten me!"

"What? No, I, uh, I have an eidetic memory, I-I _couldn't_ forget you," Reid said quickly. "I've, uh, I've just been busy-"

She laughed. "I'm kidding," she told him. "I've been busy, too - that's why I haven't called you either. I got a huge break after you saved me way back when, and everything kind of took off from there - I've only gotten busier since."

"Yeah, I've heard you've been, uh, getting more famous," Reid said, fumbling with his words.

Lila laughed again. "Well, I don't know if 'famous' is the right word, but I've certainly had fuller days." she said, and Reid had no idea how to interpret or respond to that. "It's funny you'd call now, though - I _finally_ have a break for a couple of days, it took a lot of struggle to clear my schedule but I _had_ to, I was going crazy."

"Really?" he said, surprised. "Well, I, uh, I'm in Sacramento right now, I know it's not exactly close, but I have tomorrow off, too - I'm only here to testify in a trial the day after tomorrow - so, uh, I was hoping, m-maybe I could…come see you? Even for, just, like, an hour or something…?"

"I'd like that a lot," Lila said, a smile in her voice. "You just managed to catch me while I'm free…That's a really weird coincidence, huh?

"Uh, yeah," Reid said. "Great! So, I, uh, when should I come visit?"

"Come by any time," she told him. "Oh my god, I can't wait to see you again."

"Yeah…so…I'll see you tomorrow, then," Reid said.

"See you tomorrow," Lila agreed. "Good night."

"Uh, good night," Reid said.

She hung up.

Reid took a deep breath and put his phone away. It could have gone worse - it could have gone a _lot_ worse - but it felt almost surreal that he was going to see her again. It almost seemed too good to be true.

He yawned; he was exhausted. It really had been quite a day, and even _his_ brain had limits. He went to bed right then and there, for once trying to not even think. He'd had enough thinking for now.

o~X~o

Bertram walked through HQ a few hours into the graveyard shift to find Grace Van Pelt lying on Jane's couch, her eyes closed.

"Agent Van Pelt," he said, walking in.

Van Pelt opened her eyes. "Director Bertram, sir," she said, smiling.

"What are you still doing here?" Bertram asked. "I would have thought you'd be home by now."

"Yes, well, I, um…" Van Pelt hesitated, not really wanting to talk about the reason she was sleeping in HQ tonight.

Bertram sighed. "You know, Agent," he said, taking a step closer, showing signs of weary annoyance, "no one will tell me what is going on. Lisbon said Jane asked for some favors, the BAU said they caught Red John, but…" He shook his head. "I can't make heads or tails of just exactly what's happening."

"Oh, uh, the BAU gave us a profile for Red John," Van Pelt said. "We, uh, used it to look into some potential leads, and we found a guy who matched both the BAU's profile and the…stories Lisbon said Red John told her while she was his captive - you know, the stuff Jane wanted her to never talk about, ever? She did for the BAU, that's a large part of how we found Red John. He's Dr. Mark Doe, a local oil company tycoon."

"Okay, but what about what's been going on since then?" Bertram asked. "I see Lisbon with a sister I never knew she had, I've called attorneys to see if they'll try the case, other things are in the works without even my _knowledge_, never mind my authority, and no one will even tell me _why _any of this is happening."

"Well, Jane had Red John arrested instead of killing him," Van Pelt said; "apparently, he has a plan that will stop Red John without any legal boundaries being overstepped." She shrugged. "Apart from that, I'm as clueless as you are," she said; "Jane won't tell _anyone_ what his plan is."

Bertram tilted his head. "You were present for Red John's arrest, right?" he asked in an odd tone of voice. "You and the rest of Agent Lisbon's team?"

"Yes," Van Pelt said, her face paling at the memory. "Mark Doe is, uh, certainly Red John…He, uh…said he'd kill me if he ever got free." She blushed; she hadn't wanted to tell him that, but it seemed her mouth had other plans.

"_Kill_ you?" Bertram repeated, surprised.

"Uh, yes sir," Van Pelt said with a nervous smile.

"Well, you're not worried, are you?" he asked. "You're an excellent agent, I'm sure Red John could never overpower you."

"Sir, he overpowered _Lisbon_ without hardly even trying," Van Pelt said, deciding to let some of her fears off her chest while she was already talking. "He could probably rip me limb from limb in three seconds with his bare hands."

"That's not what Red John does, though, right?" Bertram asked, and Van Pelt thought there was something very strange about his tone and expression. "He cuts people up and watches them die slowly."

Van Pelt gulped. "Yes sir," she said.

"So you're scared," Bertram said slowly. "Why are you here now?"

"I didn't want to be at home all alone, so Jane said I could sleep on his couch, if it would make me feel safer to be here," Van Pelt said.

"Did he, now?" Bertram asked, and the hairs on the back of Van Pelt's neck stood on end - something was _definitely_ wrong here. "Why is it you'd feel safer here?"

Van Pelt blinked. "What do you mean?" she asked, confused.

"Well, Red John's friends are everywhere, aren't they?" Bertram asked, and there was something about his too-casual voice that felt chillingly familiar. "Even…here in the CBI, yes?"

"I…uh…" Van Pelt felt her chest constrict.

"I'm just saying, it's odd that you wouldn't feel safe sleeping at _home_, where there shouldn't be anyone at all, but you'd feel safe _here_, when even people you think you know might have…orders," Bertram said, shrugging.

Van Pelt's mouth was dry. "Director Bertram…sir…what are you saying?" she asked, her voice shaking.

Bertram smiled wickedly. "I'm saying you made the wrong choice," he said, stepping closer to her. She looked in his eyes, and suddenly, they were the burning cold gray eyes of Mark Doe, ablaze with lust - lust not just for flesh, but for blood, _her_ blood.

"My Treasure," he hissed, raising his knife, stalking towards her. "My Treasured Frightened Rabbit…"

Van Pelt was frozen; a scream clawed the back of her throat.

"_Mine_!" Red John hissed, as he descended upon her, plunged his knife into her-!

Van Pelt screamed and sat bolt upright…and found that she was surrounded by bright daylight.

She panted, gasping for air, trying to register what she was seeing around her. After a minute, her breathing started to deepen, and she relaxed, flopping back down on Jane's couch.

_It was a dream. Just a dream…_ she tried to tell herself. _Lisbon used to have them all the time. It's okay. Red John is in jail, Director Bertram isn't a monster, Jane has a plan that will stop Red John for good…Everything's fine…I'm fine…_

People had come running at the sound of her scream, but she told them it was just a dream, repeating the words she was telling herself - that she was fine. She had never been less fine, but she kept telling herself that she was, even after she stopped saying it to the people who went back to their daily lives, hoping that maybe, if she could make herself believe it, it would be true.

~o~

Mark Doe had spent the night in a conscious sleep state, allowing his higher brain functions to rest while he molded the plasticity of the world between dreams and real life to bring him where he wanted to be: On top of Grace Van Pelt, cutting her open, tasting her blood as is poured out of gashes left by his beloved knife…Oh, how he would enjoy her when the time came…

He had never wanted anyone or anything in his life as much as he wanted her. The look in her eyes after he had explained his true nature had been _delicious _- his existence alone _petrified_ her, made her almost more afraid than some of his victims had been as they died, and at the time, he hadn't been in a position to give her so much as a scratch! The fear to be had from her as he overpowered her, cut her open, ended her life…more fear than he'd ever had in one kill before, _ever_, and he could almost taste it already…Dreams weren't nearly as good as the real thing, but he could enjoy the fantasy even now, and it would be real soon enough.

He didn't _need_ blood and fear and death, not the way most serial killers did; no, for him, it was more like candy, an indulgence he didn't deny himself but which he could do without if he so desired, or had good enough reason. He wouldn't grow agitated as the days turned to weeks without blood, wouldn't start breaking down from withdrawal or anything like that - he had gone without for much longer, after all, and it wasn't an addiction, more of a craving.

Besides, _any_ amount of waiting was worth Grace Van Pelt's life…

The door to his cell opened, rousing him. He was in solitary confinement, so he had thought he would be left alone, but he forced himself to fully wake up and go where he was led. This, it turned out, was a phone.

He just barely managed not to roll his eyes. Was some friend of his blowing cover because they didn't know what to do without him? He had sent a clear enough message - Dove would be in charge until he returned, there was no reason any of them wouldn't know that. A zombie, then? Not his one pet, he was sure of that much, at least…

"Yes?" he asked when he picked up, allowing his annoyance to show in his voice - even if it _was_ a zombie, he didn't want to put up with their groveling right now.

"Mark? It's Alyssa. Am I calling at a bad time?"

He blinked. "Oh," he said, "I'm sorry, I was expecting someone else. No, you're fine…but I _did_ tell you, there's no need for you to work on this case - I'll have everything sorted out in time for the trial."

"Well, um, that's just the thing," Alyssa said, and Red John noted the reluctance in her voice - the reluctance of someone who didn't want to be the bearer of bad news but had no choice.

"What do you mean?" he asked guardedly.

"Well, Dr. Doe - Mark - your trial…I…I don't know how to tell you this…"

"Just say it," Mark said, starting to get impatient.

"Well…your trial…is…tomorrow."

"_What_?!" he exclaimed, almost jumping with genuine shock.

"I'm sorry!" Alyssa said fervently, "I don't know how they did it - apparently a judge wanted to try the case as soon as legally possible, and-"

_Forty-eight hours. Of course. And I know someone who could tell that to someone who could do something about it…_

"It's quite alright," he told Alyssa reassuringly. "I'm sorry I shouted; I was merely surprised, is all. It certainly makes things…more difficult, but we can manage. In that case, though, I _would_ appreciate your help, if you would be so kind."

"Of course!" Alyssa said. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thank you," he said warmly. "And thank you for telling me - you were right to call. I don't know what I would have done otherwise."

"That's my job," Alyssa said, a smile in her voice.

"You've done it well," he told her indulgently. "I'll see you shortly."

"See you, bye!"

"Goodbye."

He hung up. He was silent all the way back, but when at last he was alone in his cell, he allowed himself a chuckle.

_Credit where it's due,_ he admitted to himself; _for a complete and utter moron, my Old Friend made a very impressive move there. Too bad it won't help him in the end. All the same…_

"Well played, Old Friend," he said aloud under his breath, "very well played indeed."

~o~

It was a little past noon when Lisbon's testimony had finally been planned out fully and Faith Chesterfield started moving on to other witnesses. As soon as Lisbon was free, she went to the courthouse to see if Jane was really there.

Sure enough, there he was, as he said he would be, lying on the third step from the top, his coat bundled under his head like a pillow.

She approached him. "Jane!" she called.

Jane opened his eyes slowly. "Oh, hey, Lisbon," he said, sitting up. "I was wondering when you would visit me."

"Well, I haven't got much else to do now that the testimony I'm going to give has been worked out," she said, sitting down next to him. She hesitated, considering whether or not she should ask, then decided not to. "Did you really spend the night here?" she asked instead.

"Yep," Jane replied, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. "And I'm going to stay here until this is over."

"So, what, this is a stakeout?" Lisbon asked. "Are you guarding the place or something?"

"No," Jane answered, "I'm making a _statement_."

"A statement about what?" Lisbon asked, half-afraid to hear the answer.

He smiled at her with that smile she always dreaded to see. "You'll find out soon," he told her. "_If_ you remembered to tell your sister where I am, that is."

"Yeah, I told her when I told her about the judge thing," Lisbon said.

Jane nodded. "What did Judge Peterson say to you, anyway?" he asked.

Lisbon shrugged. "I'm sure you would find it very amusing, which is why I'm not going to tell you," she said, but she smiled.

Jane chuckled, if only out of appreciation for a taste of normalcy.

They were silent for a minute.

"So…now that I've done everything you asked me to do, what happens next?" Lisbon finally asked. "Like, what do you think Red John's next move will be?"

"Well, Lisbon, because you did such an _excellent_ job at doing what I asked of you, Mark is probably feeling very pressured right now," Jane answered. "He doesn't have time to come up with his own agenda - no matter how smart he is, twenty-four hours isn't enough time for him to make sure he's prepared for any possible scenario. He can't make the rules, now - he'll have to play by ours."

"You mean _yours_," Lisbon said shrewdly.

Jane shrugged. "Well, yes," he said.

Lisbon smiled. "Go on, say it," she said; "I know you're dying to."

Jane smiled. "Red John has to play by _my_ rules, now," he said, enunciating clearly, savoring the words on his tongue; Lisbon savored the sound of them herself.

Then she sighed. "He won't be too happy about that," she said.

"Well, there's nothing he can do about it," Jane said.

She smiled. "So what _will_ he do, then?" she asked.

"Well, Lisbon, what do _I_ do when _I_ can't play by _my_ own rules?" Jane asked in response.

"Do you always answer a question with a question?" Lisbon couldn't help teasing.

Jane chuckled. "I'm not going to humor you with that - we don't have time," he said. "I'd like to play that game with you at some point in the future, though - it sounds like fun. Anyway, the thing is, me and Red John are very different people, total opposites in terms of _what_ we think - you know, morals and values and such." Lisbon nodded. "But in terms of _how_ we think, we're almost the same," he went on. "He will do exactly what I do when I can't play by my own rules."

"Which is?" Lisbon asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jane shrugged. "Do my best to make the rules I _do_ have to play by work out in my favor," he replied.

"Yeah, well, you're good at that," Lisbon said seriously; "I'm sure he's good at it, too."

"Ah, but he doesn't have as much practice with it," Jane said, smiling. "Besides, one of the rules is, he can't win."

"He'll do everything in his power to break that rule," Lisbon commented.

"Yes, but it's still a rule," Jane said; "it's much harder to break a rule that's already in place and being imposed on you than it is to make up your own rules and force everyone else to play by them, at least in a situation like this."

"Okay," Lisbon said slowly. "So…what happens now?"

"Now," Jane said, "we wait for the next stage, the next scene, if you will, in this act of the story that is my struggle with Red John."

"And which act is this?" Lisbon asked teasingly.

"Well, like I said, arresting Mark was the end of the beginning - the end of Act I," Jane replied. "Right now, we're in Act II…and the next scene will begin in three…two…one…"

By pure chance, exactly as Jane said 'one', several cars drove up and parked in front of the courthouse building. Even Jane blinked in surprise as people with video cameras, flash cameras, tapes, microphones, the works, started piling out and gathering, quickly setting up for live television; Charlotte was giving directions, trying to organize the eager reporters into some form of cohesive group.

Jane stood. "Now," he said to Lisbon. He glanced at her. "Uh, please wait here, and don't interfere, whatever you do," he said.

"Jane-" Lisbon began, but he was already walking down the steps to greet the reporters. She put her hands over her face, trying not to call out and stop him; the way he had told her not to interfere told her that she was not going to like whatever he was about to do. _He made me promise to trust him, even if it seems like he's blowing it,_ she reminded herself.

"Mr. Jane! Mr. Jane!"

Roughly a dozen reporters, each representing a different news network, crowded against each other, practically climbing over each other like ants, trying to get their microphones close enough to pick up anything Jane might say, their cameras in the best possible positions. All of them clamored for his attention, each hoping to get to be the first one to ask him a question. Jane smiled at them all; the last time he had had this much attention focused specifically on him, he had been on his own TV show, and though this brought back memories of his greatest shames, he was ultimately in his element.

Charlotte struggled to the front of the crowd, trying to calm the others down enough that the interview could actually begin. Jane raised his hands, trying to help her out, but still didn't speak; that would come soon enough.

"Hi, I'm Charlotte, coming to you live from the California State Courthouse; I'm here with Patrick Jane, the man who has spent ten years trying to hunt down the terrible serial killer known as Red John."

The reporters for other news networks were still trying to get their own places and begin their own introductions, but Charlotte had been given the specific job of reporting all things Jane, so, though the others didn't like it, they let her have the best spot.

Charlotte turned to Jane. "Mr. Jane, you've spent many years struggling to get here; how do you feel?" she asked him.

Jane smiled. "I feel like I'm finally getting somewhere," he replied. "Red John has been dancing circles around me and the entire CBI for years, and a lot of people have been caught in the crossfire; things are _finally_ moving forward now, and I could not be more relieved at this point."

"Now, the man you placed under arrest, Doctor Mark Doe, a local oil company tycoon…"

"It was a lot harder to find him than it should have been," Jane said, not waiting for a question. "Luckily for him, he's very clever, and he has a lot of followers - he had a lot of things to hide behind. Some of the credit for finding him _must_ go to the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI for the profile they managed to put together for us - it was a crucial lead in making the arrest."

"Now, you collaborated on this case with the BAU only just yesterday, is that correct?"

"That is correct, Charlotte, yes," Jane said, nodding. "The CBI team I work with, led by the lovely Agent Teresa Lisbon over there…" He pointed to Lisbon, who tried not to completely hide her face. "…and the BAU ran into each other by pure chance, following two murder cases that turned out to have nothing to do with each other at all. We were very lucky to run into them, and very lucky that they agreed to lend their assistance in the Red John case."

"Mr. Jane! Mr. Jane!"

Several of the other reporters were clamoring for attention again; Jane picked one and pointed to him "Yes?"

The reporter he had acknowledged stepped forward as the others quieted. "Are you sure the man you have in custody _is_ in fact Red John?" he asked.

"I could not be more sure," Jane stated. "There is no doubt, none at all."

"Mr. Jane!"

"Uh, yes?" Jane asked, acknowledging another reporter who struggled to the front of the crowd.

"Is it true that you once murdered in cold blood another man you believed to be Red John?" she asked.

"Well, it's _partly_ true," Jane said. "I did murder a man, yes, and he claimed to be Red John - and there is no doubt that he was _in_ _league_ with the _real_ Red John - but…well, I must confess, I knew he wasn't really Red John himself. I was just trying to make a statement, really."

"A statement?" the reporter repeated.

"That there is nothing I won't do to make sure that Red John is stopped once and for all," Jane explained. "I wanted him to know that - to prove it to him, beyond any doubt, so that he would know what I would do when I found him."

"So it's true that you swore to murder the real Red John with your own two hands when you found him?" came the question.

"Uh, yes, that is true, but what you need to understand is, Red John and I have a…sort of an agreement with each other - he pretty much lives to hate me, and I don't feel too differently about him" Jane explained. "If I _had_ murdered him, _I_ would be the one on trial right now, and I _would_ be guilty, so _I'd_ go to jail - my life would be over; and there is nothing Red John would rather die for than that." He shook his head. "After all these years, all these lost battles, I couldn't let him have his way in the end."

"So this _is_ the end?" someone else asked. "We can all rest easy, knowing that Red John will never kill anyone ever again?"

Jane hesitated for effect, then said, "Well, I wish I could answer yes to that question, but the truth is, Red John is very smart, very powerful, and very resourceful - only death can stop him from killing again, he's said so himself. Even if he's convicted, he can escape jail without much if any difficulty."

A ripple of unease ran through the crowd. "So…what have you accomplished by placing him under arrest?" someone finally asked.

Jane shrugged. "Well, first of all, he doesn't get to continue leading his auspicious double-life anymore," he replied, "that's a plus. Also…" He hesitated for effect again, then said, "this _can_ be put to an end by the legal system; all it takes is…a little rule-bending."

"Are you referring to the rumor that Mark Doe's trial begins tomorrow?" someone asked.

"Uh, well, first of all, I would like to confirm that rumor," Jane said; "yes, his trial _does_ begin tomorrow, which is as soon as legally possible; I personally helped make sure of that, the reason being that the more time he has to make _any_ plans, the less likely we'll be able to stop him."

"And are there more rules that need to be bent for him to be stopped?" asked another voice.

"Well, yes," Jane replied; "like I said, only death can stop Red John from killing again. If he can be put to death, say, within the next couple of days, then that will be the end of it."

"And what are the odds of that happening?" asked someone else.

"There are no 'odds'," Jane replied. "It's not up to chance to decide when we execute him. Technically, there's a lineup on death row, and normally it might take years to put an end to him, but…well, who says what order inmates on death row have to be executed in?"

There was no response to this.

"No, seriously, I'm asking you, who says who has to be executed in what order?" Jane pressed.

"Uh…the law?" someone suggested.

Jane smiled. "The law," he repeated, almost mockingly. "So you're saying there's some invisible, intangible force called 'the law' that will physically force us to execute death row inmates in order?"

"Well…no…" the same person replied.

Jane chuckled. "Then what are you saying?" he asked. "Who says what order we execute people in?"

"The state?" someone else suggested.

"The state?" Jane repeated. "So you're telling me that the, uh…" He kicked at the dirt beneath his shoes, then jumped up and down on the ground a couple of times. "…the soil under our feet cares who we kill or when?"

"No, that's silly," someone else said

Jane smiled. "Yes it is," he said. "So again I ask you, who says Red John will have to wait his turn to die?"

The reporters glanced at and muttered to each other, but no single answer rose up from the crowd.

"Do you give up?" Jane asked, almost jokingly. "Then I'll tell you."

In an instant, there was silence, all eyes and ears focused on Jane.

"_People_," he told them. "_People_ decide who dies when, _people_ are the ones who make the laws - _we_ decide what happens in the legal system…and people, human beings, have free will - they can make choices, they can decide to follow a routine or break out of it, and it is up to human beings to put a stop to Red John before he can kill or hurt anyone ever again. It's not a choice I or anyone can force anyone else to make, though - we _all_ have the power and the obligation to make that decision. It's up to the jury, the judge, and the people, but make no mistake, it is a _choice_ whether we follow the rules or bend them to make sure Red John is stopped, not chance, and not pre-determined by any sort of rule."

"And do you have hopes that the people will make the right choice?" asked Charlotte.

Jane smiled. "I have to believe they will," he said; "that's why I'm telling everyone this now. It's up to _all_ of us to stop Red John - me, you, and everyone else in the state, really." He looked into the cameras. "If Mark gets acquitted, or his execution is scheduled late enough that he'll be able to escape beforehand, we will _all_ pay the price," he told the world. "None of us want that. But we have to _choose_ to stop him. _You_ have to choose to stop him."

There was silence.

"Alright, that's all I have to say," Jane said, "no further questions at this time."

"Thank you, Mr. Jane," Charlotte said.

"Wait!" someone in the back called.

"Yes?" Jane asked, trying to see who had spoken.

A squirrelly young man wrestled his way to the front of the crowd, and Jane noticed the level of annoyance this caused the others - more than would be reasonable if this was his only offense.

"Mr. Jane, sir, how can you be so sure that Mark Doe is Red John?" he asked, panting with the effort it had taken him to get through. "You said there is no doubt - what reasoning do you have that could back that up? You said someone else once claimed to be Red John, and you killed him - even if Mark Doe confessed, how do you know it's a true confession?"

Jane smiled. "That's a very good question," he said indulgently, and the young man beamed. "My answer is: It's in his eyes."

"In his eyes?" the man repeated. "Would you care to elaborate that?"

"Well, in _your_ eyes, I see that you're new to this whole reporting thing," Jane said; "this is the first story of any significance you've ever been a part of - out of your league, really, but since everyone is trying to focus on this story right now, you were given a bit of an advance. Your youthful energy gives you a great deal of enthusiasm in this matter, so much so that you can't help babbling about it with anyone and everyone in sight, whether they want to listen to you or not. Your colleagues here were driven half-crazy by your chatter on the drive over here, and all of them are dreading the ride back with you." Jane looked at the others. "Isn't that right?" he asked.

There was some hesitation, then reluctant admittance that yes, Jane was absolutely right.

Jane grinned at the look on the young man's bright red face. "Now, I just saw that after taking a quick glance into your eyes, and everyone else's," Jane said; "I looked into Mark Doe's eyes and read everything there was to see. There is no doubt, he is a monster - he is _the_ monster, the one and only Red John - and if he's to be stopped, we all need to band together and do what we need to do, rules and regulations be damned."

All was still for a minute.

"Alright, now I'm done for real," Jane said.

Charlotte turned back to Jane. "Well, thank you very much for your time, Mr. Jane," she said.

"Oh, it was my pleasure," Jane told her. "If you have any further questions, I'm going to be camping out here until this is over, so come by anytime."

"Why here?" Charlotte asked, confused.

"Well, no matter what, this is where my _mind_ will be," Jane replied; "I might as well be here physically, too, for all the difference it would make. Maybe I'll even be able to sleep here - I wouldn't be able to sleep anywhere else, I can tell you that much, my brain just wouldn't shut down. Until it's over, this is where I'll be."

Charlotte nodded. "Well, thank you Mr. Jane," she said, "we hope this ends well for you."

"And _I_ hope this ends well for _all_ of us," he said, smiling.

Charlotte smiled and nodded back, then turned back to the cameras for the outro, saying something about Jane's dedication and the struggles he had endured. Jane didn't listen, instead turning back and climbing up the stairs again. Lisbon was waiting for him near the top, her face thunderous.

"_That's_ your big plan?" she hissed furiously when he reached her. "You're trying to rally everyone in the state to do whatever crazy thing you say?"

"Lisbon, calm down," Jane said in a low voice, "I was careful about every word I said."

"_Careful_?" she repeated, struggling not to scream at him. "It looked to me like you were just begging for attention - just like that night you insulted Red John and he murdered your family, do you remember?"

"Lisbon, there's no need to be so hurtful," Jane said soothingly, not taking offense. "I carefully gauged all their responses to everything I said - I had to sell it without overselling it, it's a fine line to tread but I did well. The response _will_ be positive, I guarantee it."

Lisbon shook her head angrily. "You just ruined _everything_," she snapped at him, moving to turn the cold shoulder on him and walk away. Jane grabbed her arms, forcing her to turn back to face him. She struggled.

"Lisbon, _listen to me_," he tried to say.

"Let go of me!" she snarled, still trying to pull away.

Jane knew she was acting out of fear - she knew better than anyone just what would happen if Red John wasn't stopped, and she knew the whole plan was a long shot just as well as he did. So he just held onto her, trying to keep her close, not even bothering attempting to explain until she calmed down some.

"Lisbon, listen," he said gently. "Hey! Just listen. Listen to me."

"What?" she finally demanded, becoming still and glaring at him.

Jane looked into her eyes, dead serious. "Lisbon, I made you a promise," he told her. He released his left hand to hold it up in front of his face, displaying his wedding ring. "On this, remember? On everything this means and everything it has ever meant, I promised you that I would not do or say _anything_ with _any_ intent other than to bring Red John down. In return, I asked you to trust me. You promised me you would."

Lisbon's scowl lessened but didn't go away.

"Trust me now," Jane told her. "I was careful, I swear."

Lisbon closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. "I know you'd never _intentionally_ ruin this," she conceded. "I'm just worried that you might screw up by accident. It's not unlike you to do something impulsive and have things turn out worse than you intended."

"I understand your concern, Lisbon, but I'm not going to take any unnecessary risks in this matter," Jane told her; "not for my ego, and not for any other reason. I promise."

Lisbon hesitated, then nodded. "Okay," she said.

"Alright," Jane said.

Lisbon turned and started walking away.

"Where are you going?" he called after her.

She stopped and turned back. "To see if you're right," she answered. "I'll ask _other_ people to determine how badly you screwed up."

"I didn't screw up," Jane said firmly, "and I thought you trusted me."

"I just need to be sure," she said.

Jane sighed dramatically. "Alright, go on if it'll make you feel better," he said, "but I'm telling you right now, the response will be a hundred percent positive."

"We'll see," was all Lisbon could say, and then she left.

Jane sat back down. His plan _was_ a long shot, he couldn't deny that, but if it worked, Red John's defeat would be absolute - he would get the end he deserved. _I just have to be careful, tread the line very gently,_ he thought to himself. _A master manipulator of thoughts and behavior…I have to put _all_ of my mastery into this._

_…This cannot end soon enough._


	19. Chapter 17

It took a couple of hours to make the drive, but Reid had ditched his team early that morning to go to LA and see Lila. He didn't tell anyone where he was going; he could hardly believe it himself, and he didn't want to hear anyone laugh at him.

The place looked the same as it had when Lila was being stalked and Reid stayed with her to protect her. Nine years…Almost a decade, and here he was again. He tried not to feel sick with nerves as he got out of the car he had borrowed, walked up to the front door, and knocked. For the thousandth time that day, he wished he had Mark Doe's charm.

_"…she liked you because…you couldn't pretend to be someone you're not even if you tried - in fact, you'd probably do a worse job of it if you _did_ try."_

Again, Patrick Jane's words came back to him, almost soothing him. Yes, he was socially awkward, but that was part of what Lila liked about him, had liked from the start.

Then the door opened, and Lila Archer was standing in front of him, a radiant smile on her pretty face.

"Uh, hey Lila," he said awkwardly.

"Spencer!" Without warning, she threw her arms around him. Startled, he hugged back, awkwardly.

"Oh, I've missed you so much," she said. "Ever since…the thing happened, I've been surrounded by nothing but sharks."

Reid blinked; he hadn't thought of it, but the unsub had been a close friend of Lila's - or so she had thought - and one of the victims had been her manager, whom she had also been close to. Did she have any other friends besides that? He had no idea.

"I've missed you, too," he said, half-truthfully, feeling a twinge of guilt as he hugged her with a bit more certainty now.

She stepped back, still smiling. "Come on in," she said, leading him through the front door.

A few minutes later, they were in her living room, drinking tea, almost exactly like last time.

"So," Lila said, "what's the big trial you're going to tomorrow that you have today free for?"

"Oh, uh, my team - the BAU - helped the local bureau of investigation hunt down this serial killer they've been after for years - Red John? Do you know him?" Reid asked.

"Red John?" Lila repeated. "That weirdo who paints smiley faces in people's blood? Yeah, I've heard of him - he's been all over every news station in existence since yesterday."

Reid nodded. "Well, we got him," he told Lila.

"_You_ got him?" she asked. "Wow…" She smiled. "So, who was he, anyway?" She took a sip of her tea.

"Uh, his real name is Doctor Mark Doe, he's a local oil company tycoon-"

Lila choked on her tea, sputtering, then coughing.

"Are you okay?" Reid asked worriedly.

Lila fought to cough her airway clear. When at last she could speak again, she said, "_Mark_? _He's_ Red John? Are you sure?"

"Positive," Reid replied, somewhat confused by her response. "He fit the profile perfectly, and…there's significant evidence besides." He technically wasn't supposed to talk about evidence with a civilian, no matter who that civilian might be.

Lila shook her head.

"Did you know him?" Reid asked.

"Yeah, I've met him a few times at some big fancy-dos," she replied. "He seemed so nice…"

Reid nodded. "Part of the profile was that anyone who knew the, uh, the unsub socially would insist that he couldn't possibly be Red John, or a criminal of _any_ sort for that matter," he told Lila.

"So…by doubting that Mark could be Red John, I'm just…proving that he is?" Lila asked slowly.

"Uh, you could say that, yes," Reid said awkwardly.

"Oh my god…" Lila seemed shaken. She set down her tea, then hugged herself.

"Are, uh, are you okay?" Reid asked.

"Mark…asked me out, a couple of times," Lila said tonelessly, to Reid's complete surprise.

"Asked you out?" he repeated. "But…he wouldn't take part in any sort of courtship - he wouldn't want, or have any reason to have, a significant other…"

Lila looked at Reid, her eyes fearful. "Do you think he was…targeting me?" she asked.

Reid's eyes widened; if there was any reason for Mark Doe to ask a girl on a date, it would be because he intended to kill her later. He felt sick. He wanted to lie, but he couldn't. "It-It's possible," he admitted.

"Oh my god…" Lila hugged herself a bit more tightly and shuddered. "I know most people around here just want something, and lie all the time, but he…seemed so different…I could have sworn he was sincere, even trustworthy…"

Prompted by some instinct he hadn't even known he'd had, Reid reached over and put a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay," he said; "he's very charming, and a much better liar than most - you wouldn't have had any reason _not_ to trust him."

"I felt so bad when I turned him down…" Lila went on, almost as though she hadn't heard Reid.

Reid blinked. "You turned him down?" he asked, surprised again. "Why?"

She looked at him. "Because I…was still hoping I'd hear from you someday," she answered softly.

Reid's eyes widened. "Me?"

Lila nodded and gave him a sad smile. "That's twice now you've saved my life, it seems," she said, almost crying.

"Lila…" Reid had no idea what he was feeling, how he should take this. No idea at all…

~o~

It was mid-afternoon; most of the BAU had gone over the testimony they would present at the trial the next day, and Hotch had been looking into some things for a few hours. Now, he rounded up the team, telling them to meet him in a conference room he appropriated for the matter. Most of his agents showed up, but there was one person missing…

"Has anyone seen Reid?" he asked his team.

Morgan shook his head. "Not since this morning," he replied.

"Any idea where he could be?" Hotch asked.

Morgan had a hunch, but he kept it to himself and just said, "No, sir."

No one else had any idea, either.

"He needs to be part of this," Hotch said, taking out his phone and dialing Reid's number.

"It's not like him to just vanish," Rossi commented; "I wonder what's going on?"

~o~

Reid and Lila were kissing. He hadn't had any words, and apparently, neither had she.

This was something new for him - he'd only been in this position once before, and that had been briefly…and he liked it. He couldn't deny that he liked it. Fragments of facts about biochemistry and physiology flew around in his head, but for a change, he didn't bother letting them form. Words and facts were all very well, but this…this was something words couldn't capture.

Lila pressed herself against him, in his arms now…He was acting purely on instinct, a burning desire that filled him, defied rational thought - it was kind of scary, actually, but he didn't want to stop. She probably knew what she was doing better than he did, but his instinct was enough, an instinct he would never have guessed he'd even had. There was no thought, no understanding, no logic or reason - he could only feel, and react…

But why was she…?

Her hands went to the buttons on his shirt, and in a flash, he regained his senses. No. This was too much, too fast - he barely had any idea what was even happening.

"What's wrong?" Lila asked breathlessly between kisses.

Reid hesitated…and then, at that exact moment, his cell phone rang.

"Uh, I'm sorry, I, uh, I need to take this," he said, worming his way out of her embrace. She pouted, but when Reid checked the caller ID and saw it was Hotch, he said, "I'm sorry, it's my boss."

"I thought you had today off," Lila half-whined, but Reid had already answered.

"Yeah, Hotch?" he asked.

"Reid, where are you?" Hotch demanded.

"Uh…" He glanced at Lila. "…Out?" he answered lamely.

"Well, wherever you are, get back here, there's something I want to discuss with the team and you need to be part of it," Hotch said.

"Oh, uh…" He glanced at Lila again, who was looking very unhappy. "I…I thought we had the day off?"

"Reid, whatever you're doing, drop it and come back here," Hotch ordered.

"Yes, sir," Reid said, trying not to show his relief - he wasn't even entirely sure _why_ he was relieved. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"How soon will that be?" Hotch asked.

"Uh…a couple of hours, at least?" Reid said meekly.

"Reid…where _are_ you?" Hotch asked, bewildered now.

"I'll, uh, I'll be there as soon as I can," Reid said quickly, and he hung up on his boss without any further explanation.

Lila crossed her arms.

"Lila, I'm sorry, I have to go," Reid said, standing up. "I thought we had the day off, but Hotch says there's something going on…I have to go. I'm sorry."

Lila just scowled.

"I-I'm sorry, I…I have to go," Reid stammered again, and he hurried out of Lila's house, back into his car, and drove away as fast as he could, still trying to figure out what in the world had just happened to him.

o~X~o

Rigsby, Cho, Van Pelt, and a few other random CBI agents were gathered around the TV, watching the news. They had seen the entirety of Jane's interview, and now, reporters were discussing other information that had been released about the Red John case - things that hadn't been available to discuss until Lisbon had handed Charlotte the entire case file.

"Mr. Jane is very passionate about the issue," one of the reporters was saying. "A lot of things have happened since he joined the investigation that would deter many people, but he's held to it for years."

"It's not just him, though - Agent Lisbon and the rest of her team have been after this guy for _ages_," said the other. "They're _all_ heroes."

"I can't argue with that," said the first. She faced the cameras. "If you're just joining us, Patrick Jane has just called upon every individual in the state to band together and put a stop to the monster known as Red John, declaring 'Only death will stop him from killing again.'" She turned back to her partner. "Sandra, remind us exactly what Red John does to people."

"Ugh, I hate this part," Sandra muttered. She took a breath. "Well, Red John kills his victims with a very distinct pattern of knife wounds, arranged to be fatal and cause maximum pain without hitting any major blood vessel, which would allow his victims to die more quickly."

"Giving people a slow, painful death, in other words," the other reporter said.

Sandra nodded. "Yes, very much so," she confirmed. "That's not the worst part, however." She took another breath, paling slightly as though ill, though she'd gone over this several times before. "According to autopsy reports…signs of sexual trauma on female victims appear to be inflicted peri-mortem but after all knife wounds."

"So, to clarify," the other reporter said, "Red John cuts his victims in such a way as to give them a slow, painful death, and then rapes them _as_ _they're_ _dying_?"

Sandra nodded, and she definitely looked ill now. "Yes," she said; "the ultimate in sick - and that's just what he does to people he has no personal connection to."

"Yes, as has only recently been released by the CBI, when Red John has a personal vendetta against a victim, in addition to his normal routine, he paints his victims' toenails in their own blood," the other reporter said; "post- or peri-mortem, it's impossible to tell, but…well, it doesn't really matter."

"It's just sick," Sandra agreed. "I think we can all agree that Red John needs to be stopped by whatever means necessary."

"Which brings us back to a recent interview with Patrick Jane, the man who has spent ten years hunting Red John after the beast murdered his wife and child," the first reporter said. "Mr. Jane has confirmed that trial for Mark Doe, who has been arrested and charged with the crime of…well, being Red John, _will_ begin tomorrow. He asks that the man's execution be fast-tracked likewise - he tells us that if given enough time, Mark _will_ escape from prison, conviction or no, so he must be killed _soon_, lineups and regulations be damned."

By then, the text at the bottom of the screen read "Patrick Jane Declares 'Only Death Will Stop Red John.'"

Just then, Lisbon walked in.

"Hey, boss," Rigsby said, smiling.

"Hey," Lisbon said guardedly. "Did you guys see Jane's interview?"

"The whole state saw it," Cho said.

"Yeah, he did a really amazing job," Rigsby said, still smiling.

Lisbon blinked. "'Amazing'?" she repeated.

"Yeah," Rigsby said enthusiastically. "The whole state's in a massive anti-Red John frenzy - the trial's going to be like the Salem Witch Trials or something."

"Everyone's impressed with Jane and wants to have as much to do with taking Red John down as possible," Cho said.

This was the exact opposite of what Lisbon had expected, and precisely what Jane had promised. To say that she was surprised would have been an understatement, but as she joined her team in watching the news, she had to concede that maybe Jane _did_ know what he was doing, after all.

o~X~o

Morgan was waiting outside when Reid finally returned.

"Reid," he said as Reid jogged over. "Where have you been?"

"Er, uh, out?" Reid stammered, unsure if he would even be comfortable talking to Morgan about what might have just happened.

"Out _w__here_?" Morgan asked.

Reid swallowed nervously and didn't answer.

Morgan sighed. "Were you in LA, by any chance?" he asked.

Reid looked up, his eyes widening. "Uh…yeah," he said.

"Lila?"

"…Yep."

Morgan nodded, his expression unreadable. "Alright then," he said.

"Don't tell anyone," Reid pleaded, "especially not Hotch. Please?"

Morgan shrugged. "It's none of my business," he said, leading Reid inside. "What you do on your time isn't my secret to tell."

"Thanks," Reid said, relieved.

When at last Reid had joined his team and he and Morgan had sat down, Hotch stood.

"Now that we're all here, I have a proposition I want to discuss," Hotch told everyone. There were some folders full of paper on the table in front of him. He met everyone's eyes, one at a time, and said, "I want to invite Patrick Jane to join the BAU."

"_That's_ what you gathered us for?" JJ exclaimed. "Of course he should join us!"

"I can't think of any reason why any of us would be against this, Hotch," Morgan said, and the others nodded in agreement.

"Well, I _have_ looked into Mr. Jane's records, and…" Hotch opened one of the folders. "He has quite a reputation. Dozens of complaints about him are filed with the bureau every year."

"What for?" Reid asked, curious.

"Unethical conduct, threats, manipulation…there's quite a list," Hotch answered. He passed some of the folders around and sat back down. "See for yourselves."

The BAU looked through the folders quickly, not absorbing every detail (on most counts) but getting the point all the same: Patrick Jane was disliked by many people, _especially_ those in the legal system, cops and lawyers alike. But they also noticed something else.

"The main reason he's had to overstep legal boundaries is because he can't just come out and explain his suspicions," Morgan said, setting a folder down. "He does what we do, but he's not authorized to, so he has to prove his conclusions some other way."

"He's very clever about how he does it, too," Rossi commented. "I can understand why people dislike his methods, but with us, he'd almost be doing our job for us."

"He _belongs_ in the BAU," JJ said in agreement; "nowhere else will the legal system appreciate what he can do and give it weight."

"My thoughts exactly," Hotch said, "but I wanted all of your opinions on it first."

"Well, I think we're all for it," Rossi said; "that just leaves one more person's consent, and it's a done deal."

"Actually, two," Hotch said, getting out his phone and calling Strauss.

"Chief Stress will be as for it as we are," JJ said, and all of the agents - even Hotch - chuckled. "She's practically entranced by him."

"Still, we have to be sure," Hotch said.

"Yes?" came Chief Strauss's voice over Hotch's phone.

"Chief Strauss, ma'am, it's Agent Hotchner," Hotch said.

"Oh," came his boss's voice, something like disappointment in her tone. "Agent. You've finally decided to call me yourself."

"Yes…I'm sorry I haven't been able to call you, ma'am, but things have been happening rather fast," Hotch said.

"Agent Jane has told me most of what's going on over there," Strauss said haughtily, "and he did it using _your_ phone, even though you were obligated to report to me yourself."

"Ma'am, I apologize," Hotch said; "things have been kind of chaotic here, but I'm glad you brought up Mr. Jane…" He took a breath. "We were thinking that, when this is over and we _do_ return, Patrick Jane should join us."

"Join the BAU?" Strauss asked, her tone indecipherable. "Well…does he have the right training?"

"He's self-taught, ma'am, but his methods and specialty could not be better suited to the job," Hotch replied.

"Well," Strauss said slowly, "if you think he should join the BAU, I will back you on that."

"Thank you, ma'am," Hotch said, "we just need his consent first."

"Well, go get it, then," Strauss half-ordered.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'll await the good news," Strauss said, and she hung up.

The BAU exchanged looks.

"Alright then," Morgan said. "Should we go and ask him now?"

Hotch nodded. "The sooner the better." He stood, the rest of his team standing with him, and they filed out of the room, headed for the courthouse.

o~X~o

Jane was dozing on the steps, his coat bunched under his head, his eyes closed. He heard two vehicles pull up and park, but didn't open his eyes.

Thunk!

Thunk! Thunk!

Thunk-thunk! Thunk!

Six car doors closed in sequence. Jane smiled as he heard people walk up the steps.

"Hey, everyone," he said. "Penny, Rossi, JJ, Hotch, Morgan, Spencer."

"How did you know it was us?" Reid asked, surprised.

"I heard six car doors close," Jane replied, sitting up and opening his eyes at last, "and what other group of six would be here now?"

Many of the agents smiled.

"So," Jane said, "what can I do for you?"

"We want you to join us," JJ told him.

Jane blinked. "What?"

Hotch cleared his throat. "Mr. Jane, we are all very impressed with what we've seen of your abilities since we began working with you," he said formally, "and we would like to invite you to officially join the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI."

"Me?" Jane asked. "In the FBI?" He shook his head. "No, no, no, you don't want me - ask anyone in the CBI-"

"We're aware of your records, Mr. Jane," Hotch told him.

"You belong with us," Rossi said; "your insights and the sorts of traps you set for unsubs are exactly what we need."

Jane blinked again, shocked. He had jokingly told Lisbon that he might join the BAU if Red John was taken down, but he hadn't _really_ considered it - he hadn't thought they'd really even _want_ him.

"I…uh…I can't use a gun," he said after a moment. "I don't really like guns, actually."

"it _is_ unusual for an agent to not carry a weapon, but exceptions can be made," Hotch reassured him. "It will make it difficult for you to go out in the field, but we can make it work."

Jane shook his head. He really didn't know what to say. There was a time when he had thought his future was already determined - chasing Red John until finally taking him down, then spending the rest of his life in jail for exacting his revenge, a price he had been more than willing to pay. But now that Red John might die and leave him free to pursue whatever life he wanted…

There was silence for a minute.

Jane sighed. "Listen, guys, I, uh, I'm flattered by the invitation, really I am," he said at last, "but, I, uh…I need some time to think it over, if that's okay with you. I never really thought about what I'd do after Red John's dead…I can't leave while he's still alive, obviously-"

"No, of course not, we understand," Hotch said.

Jane smiled. "Yes, well, I need some time to think it over," he said.

Hotch nodded. "Take your time," he said.

"Thank you," Jane said.

"Your wife would want you to join us," Garcia blurted out.

Everyone turned to her. She blushed.

Jane's chest constricted; Garcia _was_ right. But…there was more to consider than that.

"I need some time," he repeated.

"Alright." With nothing more to say, the BAU turned to go - it was late in the evening, the sun had almost completely set, and they all had a big day tomorrow.

"Hey, Spencer!" Jane called after a minute.

Reid turned. "Yeah?"

He had to go with the others right now, Jane knew, but he also needed advice. "If you come by here early tomorrow morning, I'd like to talk to you," he said.

Reid's brow furrowed, but he nodded. "Okay," he said.

Jane smiled. "Thanks," he said. "I'm looking forward to it."

Then the cars were loaded up, and Jane was alone again.

He looked down at his hands…at his wedding ring. The chance to spend the rest of his life stopping serial killers and the like was one Angela would have _begged_ him to take. How could he possibly do more good in the world with his gift than that?

And yet…

_I'll sleep on it,_ he decided, and he laid back down.


	20. Chapter 18

Reid didn't sleep well that night, so he went back to the courthouse to talk to Jane barely past dawn. Jane, it turned out, wasn't sleeping too well either, so he greeted Reid right away.

"Hey, Spencer." He smiled. "Glad you came to join me."

Unsure of what else to do, Reid sat down on the step beside Jane. "You wanted to talk to me about something?" he asked.

"Well, it's more that there's something _you_ want to talk about, but you don't have anyone to talk to," Jane said. "Something's bothering you - there's something you're puzzling over that you can't make heads or tails of."

"I, uh…" Reid hesitated, unsure he wanted to talk about it with _anyone_.

Then Jane smirked at him. "You went to see Lila yesterday, didn't you?"

Reid started. "How did you know that?" he exclaimed.

"Well, I wasn't _completely_ sure," Jane replied, "but I know you're troubled by something you have little to no knowledge or experience with, and there aren't many things that could be."

"You, uh, you told - er, encouraged - me to call her, so I did, the night before last," Reid said. Jane grinned as he went on, "She told me she had yesterday off - that she had only just cleared her schedule for a few days to take a break, maybe for the first time since I last saw her."

"Huh," Jane said. "That's an interesting coincidence."

"Yeah," Reid agreed.

Jane nodded. "So what happened?" he asked.

Reid hesitated, then said the first thing that came to mind.

"I told her about the Red John case, and she said Mark Doe had asked her out a couple of times," he told Jane.

"Really?" Jane asked, surprised. "Small world."

"Do you think he was after her?" Reid asked.

"Couldn't tell you," Jane replied. "If he wanted to get her close to him and alone, then probably, but he may have just been trying to act normal." He hesitated, then added, "She _did_ turn him down, didn't she?"

"Uh, yeah," Reid said hesitantly.

"Because of you?" Jane asked.

Reid blushed. "Yes - at least, that's what she said," he replied.

Jane nodded again. "He may well have known that she would say no," he told Reid; "there's no way to know for sure if he was targeting her or not…but from what little I know about her from you, I'd say she's not his type."

"Not his type?" Reid repeated, confused.

Jane gave him a look. "You really _are_ distracted," he commented. "Red John loves fear, and Lila doesn't get scared too easily, even when her life is in danger, yes?"

"Um…yeah…" Reid said slowly.

Jane nodded. "So he was probably just trying to act human, knowing full well she'd turn him down," he said.

"She said she felt bad about saying no to him…" Reid said.

Again, Jane nodded. "That makes sense," he said; "Mark can be very charming."

Reid nodded.

There was silence for a minute.

"…But that's not what's bothering you, is it?" Jane said at last, making it more of a statement than a question. "There's something else…something you're almost afraid to even _think_ about, never mind talk about. Yes?"

"…Yes," Reid admitted sheepishly.

Jane nodded again. "I think I can guess…and I don't blame you for feeling uncertain," he said. "You had no childhood, no teenhood, no way of making friends or even acquaintances - never mind girlfriends - for most of your life. Now, suddenly, you're in a situation you've only read about, if that."

Reid nodded.

"The worst part is that you can't really talk to anyone," Jane went on, "not without being laughed at, at least. Even Agent Morgan would probably laugh if you tried to talk to him about it."

"Probably."

Jane tilted his head. "But if you _don't_ talk about it, you're going to _keep_ thinking about it," he told Reid, "and if I may be so selfish as to say it, things would probably go a lot more smoothly if you get it off your chest _before_ the trial."

"I…" Reid hesitated. He didn't even know for sure what had actually happened, never mind what to say or think about it.

"Oh, what's the matter, Spencer?" Jane asked after a moment, almost teasingly, trying to lighten the mood a little. "Even if your dad never told you about the birds and the bees, you _do_ know, don't you?"

"Er - well - I - yes, but-" Reid stammered, his face hot.

"Spencer." Jane put a hand on Reid's shoulder, mercifully cutting him off.

Reid closed his mouth tightly.

Jane took a breath, wordlessly encouraging Reid to do the same. When Reid seemed less distressed, he gently asked, "What are you scared of?"

Reid blinked. "What?"

"You're scared of something, or you _think_ you are," Jane said, shrugging. "What are you scared of?"

"I…" Reid frowned. What was there _to_ be scared of? "I'm…not sure I understand what you're asking," he said.

"Well, you were relieved when your boss interrupted your, ah, escapade," Jane said, "weren't you?"

"Yeah…"

"You wanted to run away, and were glad to have an excuse she couldn't talk you out of," Jane said. "What I'm asking is, what were you running _from_?"

"…Her? I guess?" Reid asked.

"Were you?" Jane asked. "I don't know the answer, Spencer, you tell me."

Reid couldn't speak. A minute passed.

At last, Jane sighed. "Normally, I'd be adverse to applying the scientific method to a relationship," he told Reid, "but in this case, that's probably the best thing to do. Just break it down into a bunch of smaller questions you can find the answers to."

"Like what?" Reid asked.

Jane shrugged. "Well, what do you want, what are the potential consequences of either decision…Why and why not?, basically. Whether or not the pros outweigh the cons is entirely up to you."

"Pros and cons of _what_, though?" Reid asked.

"Sleeping with her," Jane said simply. "Or not." He shrugged. "What you want to do is up to you. Just remember that as soon as Red John's dead, you'll be going back to Quantico, and you may never return; you have to make up your mind before then, one way or the other - if you don't, you will always regret it, that much I can tell you."

"Why should I…do it, though?" Reid asked.

Jane shrugged. "Well, why _shouldn't_ you?" he countered.

Reid blinked.

Jane shrugged again. "It's up to you," he repeated.

Reid thought. Why should he? Why shouldn't he? He couldn't come up with a definitive answer for either question. What did he want? He didn't know that, either. What was he scared of? He had no idea.

"Oh, uh, Spencer," Jane said suddenly.

Reid looked at him. "Yes?"

"If she calls you before you make up your mind, you shouldn't answer," Jane advised. "No good could come of it if you did. If she calls repeatedly and you keep blowing her off, wait until late at night, when she's guaranteed to be asleep, then leave a message on her answering service saying you need to think about something before you can talk to her again. No need to be specific, just acknowledge that you're blowing her off and let her know you have a reason. Otherwise, your decision will be made for you."

Reid nodded. "Okay," he said; being given a direction was comforting, even if it didn't resolve his main problem. He thought quietly for another minute, then finally found something worth saying.

"What would _you_ do?" he asked Jane.

"Me?" Jane asked, blinking. "Ah…if I was in _your_ position, specifically…" He thought for a minute, then shrugged. "I'd probably do it," he answered.

Reid's brow furrowed. "Really?" he asked, surprised; that didn't seem like Jane.

"If I was in _your_ position," Jane emphasized. "But I'm not. _You_ are. And what you do is up to you."

Reid nodded, though he didn't really understand. He almost felt like he was talking to Gideon again - the closest thing to a father he'd ever had. Jane was more eccentric, it was true, but he was also insightful and willing to discuss awkward topics. And he hadn't laughed - even Hotch would have laughed, if Reid had brought it up with him (which he wouldn't have, ever), but Jane hadn't laughed. That was worth a lot.

Gideon wouldn't have laughed, either.

He wondered what Gideon would tell him to do.

The sun was up, now, and regular people were starting to awaken. Soon, people would be gathering outside the courthouse in anticipation of Red John's trial. Jane hadn't actually kept track of the news or its reception by the public, but he had some guesses as to how things were already starting to go - guesses that were confirmed when people he didn't even recognize started gathering even though the trial was still a couple of hours away.

Reid stood up and joined the milieux, losing himself in the crowd. The rest of the BAU, plus Lisbon and the others, arrived a few minutes later. Jane just stayed where he was, smiling at the gathering. He had summoned them, and they had come - it was all very empowering. Many people were trying to hide the fact that they were staring at him; whispers rustled through the crowd, and most of them were about him, he knew.

Among the crowd was the plethora of witnesses Jane had had Faith Chesterfield round up. If Faith had followed the plan, all of them had the same instructions, with the exception of Lisbon, who would present the case itself. Any doubts Jane might have had that his idea would work faded away; the crowd was too eager, the people too stirred up, for it to go anything but perfectly.

"Jane!"

Lisbon was the first to climb the stairs to greet him, the rest of the team behind her. He stood up, putting his jacket back on, and grinned at her. "Hey, Lisbon," he said cheerfully. "Today's the big day, huh?"

"I just hope you know what you're doing," Lisbon said.

Jane rolled his eyes. "Come on, Lisbon, everything went exactly as I said it would, didn't it?" He could see in her expression that it had - it was obvious.

"Yes, but whatever you told Faith Chesterfield to do-"

"Lisbon, do what Faith told you to do, nothing more, nothing less, and nothing else," Jane said firmly.

Lisbon nodded, but she probably wouldn't have if she had known the full plan.

Jane looked at Van Pelt. "How about you, Grace?" he asked. "How are you holding up?"

"Oh, I'm fine," Van Pelt said.

_Liar,_ Jane thought but didn't say. "Good," he said out loud.

And then the doors to the courthouse opened and people started piling in. Witnesses, families of victims, and people who had actual connections to the Red John case were given priority, but plenty of people who hadn't even heard the name 'Red John' until it had been all over the news over the course of the past two days wanted to attend, too. The courtroom was big, but not nearly big enough to hold everyone who wanted to be there - people actually crowded around the walls when there were no seats left, packing the room like a tin of sardines.

Jane sat near the front, on the left side of the narrow aisle the people allowed there to be. To his left was Lisbon, then Van Pelt, Rigsby, and Cho in that order. The BAU were behind them.

When Mark Doe came in, he seemed dignified and utterly sure of himself, almost giving the impression that he was exactly where he wanted to be. It was impressive, especially considering the mutters and glares his presence incited. He sat in his place as the defendant, the two lawyers were present, and Judge Peterson was getting ready.

Before the trial was ready to officially start, a red-haired lady wormed her way through the crowd and reached Jane.

"Mr. Jane?"

He turned. "Hello," he said. He thought for a moment, then said, "Victoria, right? Victoria Adner, heiress of Beckworth Manor."

She smiled. "Yes," she said.

Jane smiled back. "Nice to see you again," he said.

She nodded, her smile fading to be replaced with worry.

"What's wrong?" Jane asked.

"Mr. Jane…I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened because I failed to warn you…" she began hesitantly.

"Warn me about what?" Jane asked, his cheerful mood darkening. Was this woman one of Red John's friends?

Victoria hesitated some more, then said, "That…well, I hesitate to call him a man…" She gestured at Mark Doe.

"What about him?" The question came, not from Jane this time, but from Lisbon, her attention grabbed by the civilian's apparent awareness of the fact that Red John wasn't human.

"His aura…" she said, still hesitant.

Jane burst out into relieved laughter. "Oh, please," he said.

"Mr. Jane, please, I need you to listen to me!" Victoria said in a low, urgent voice.

"What's going on, Mrs. Adner?" Lisbon asked.

Victoria glanced at Lisbon, then looked back at Jane. "Mr. Jane…everyone exudes energy, and that energy varies based on who they are," she told him; "if you study it long enough, you start being able to see it, and with enough practice, it's possible to differentiate people's auras into indicative colors and understand who they are based on it."

"And you're going to tell me Mark's an evil bastard?" Jane asked amusedly.

But Victoria shook her head. "No," she whispered frantically, "that's not it."

Lisbon leaned in to hear better, though Jane still put no weight on the subject. What was Victoria able to see?

"Mr. Jane, I've seen and studied many auras over the course of my life," Victoria said, distressed now. "I've read about the auras of dark, evil, broken people - though I admit I've never had the misfortune of seeing such an aura in person. But…nothing I have seen or read can _begin_ to make sense of what I see about…" She gestured to Mark. "…that _being_," she said.

Jane shook his head, dismissing her, but Lisbon needed to hear whatever Victoria was talking about. "Mrs. Adner, what is it you see?" she asked.

Victoria swallowed. "I see…" She broke off, shaking her head. "I don't really have words for it. It's just that he…his aura is…_negative_."

"Negative how?" Lisbon asked.

"He doesn't _exude_ energy, he sucks it in, like a black hole," Victoria said. She shook her head. "It's not the aura of a human. It's just…impossible."

Lisbon nodded. "So is he," she said.

Victoria nodded back. "Yes, so, I just wanted to warn you, Mr. Jane, _be_ _careful_. There's no telling what that…that _thing_ can do, but he isn't human - whatever you do, don't underestimate him."

"We won't, Mrs. Adner," Lisbon told her. "Thank you for your warning."

Victoria nodded a goodbye, then retreated.

Lisbon looked at Jane. "So, are you willing to believe in auras now?" she asked, only half-teasing.

Jane chuckled. "Of course not," he said.

"Jane…she could tell just by looking at him that he isn't human - and that's not something a civilian could know," Lisbon said.

"The media has been making him out to be the most horrific monster the world has ever seen - close enough to the truth that some people might wonder about how human he is," Jane told her dismissively. "She just wanted to feel like she's part of this; it meant nothing."

But Lisbon wasn't so sure.

The court was still organizing. After a minute more, Lisbon looked over her shoulder at the doors, waiting for the surprise she had prepared for Jane. "Any minute now…" she said under her breath.

"Did you say something, Lisbon?" Jane asked.

Lisbon glanced at him and gave him a wry smile but said nothing. His interest piqued, he followed her gaze to the back of the room. Unlike him, though, Lisbon knew what she was looking for, so she saw it before he did.

"This is _my_ contribution to all this," she told Jane quietly.

"What?" But even as he asked, Charlotte and a camera crew with equipment forced their way inside, and she began setting up for live television as the court organized itself as well.

Jane looked at Lisbon. She grinned. And, after a moment, he smiled back.

"Good thinking, Lisbon," he said; "way to think ahead. Well done."

"Thanks," Lisbon said, and they turned back to the front.

And then the trial began.

The whole thing felt surreal to Jane. He was actually at Red John's trial - taking the monster to _court_! Through the initial formalities, the opening arguments, Jane barely even noticed what was happening. When Lisbon was called to the witness stand for the prosecution and presented the case, he couldn't really even hear her - it was all a blur.

Then Lisbon was cross-examined. Alyssa Lamb stood, questioned Lisbon, and finally asked, "Are you _sure_ that Dr. Mark Doe is the one who did all these horrible things, Agent?"

"I am," Lisbon stated.

"And how could you possibly be so sure?" Alyssa asked. "You've told of others claiming to be Red John, and many other factors besides that make the matter uncertain."

"I _know_ that Mark Doe is Red John," Lisbon said firmly.

"But _how_, Agent?" Alyssa pressed.

Lisbon took a breath. Jane crossed his fingers.

"I guess…ultimately, the reason I'm _absolutely_ sure is…because Patrick Jane says he is," Lisbon answered.

"Because Patrick Jane says he is?" Alyssa repeated. "And Patrick Jane is always right, is that it?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Lisbon replied.

Alyssa nodded. "No further questions."

"Miss Lisbon, you may be seated," Judge Peterson said.

Jane tried not to grin too broadly. Stage one of the trial couldn't have gone better. He just hoped everyone else would stick to the plan, even as they saw the testimony of others before them.

One by one, the members of Lisbon's team (with the exception of Jane), followed by the members of the BAU, gave their consistent stories. Every one was asked by Alyssa how they could be sure that Mark Doe was Red John, and each of them gave the final answer, "Because Patrick Jane says so." Each was then asked if Patrick Jane was always right, and each of them answered affirmatively.

Then the prosecution started calling more witnesses - people who had less to do with the case but still technically qualified. They, too, all said that Patrick Jane's word was the final authority on the matter for them, and answered affirmatively when they were asked if Patrick Jane was always right. The testimonies started to become identical, one after the other, but still witnesses other than Jane were called.

Jane was watching the jury, so he noticed right away when one of them took out a pen and a piece of paper and wrote something down, then passed the pen and paper to their neighbor. The receiver looked at the paper, wrote something down themselves, and passed it on. Quickly, the little paper circulated through all twelve members of the jury.

Then, as Faith was saying, "The prosecution now calls to the stand-" for the umpteenth time, juror number one stood and spoke.

"Bailiff," he called, holding out the paper.

Faith became silent as the bailiff took the paper from juror number one and brought it to Judge Peterson. Judge Peterson looked at it for a long minute, then spoke.

"I have here a petition, signed by all twelve jury members, to get Patrick Jane on the witness stand without further delay," he said. He paused, then wrote on the paper before looking up. "I hereby add my own name to this petition. Patrick Jane, would you _please_ come to the witness stand and testify?"

Jane tried not to smile too broadly. "Yes, sir," he said, standing.

Mark whispered something to Alyssa, who gave him a piece of paper and a pen. He wrote something quickly, then folded the paper in half and gave it to Alyssa. As Jane approached the witness stand, she handed it to him. He opened it and looked at it, then chuckled. He whispered something in Faith's ear, and she gave him a pen. He quickly wrote on the paper, then folded it again and gave it back to Alyssa to give to Mark. Then he proceeded to ready himself to be put under oath, raising his right hand and placing his left on the bible held out to him.

When Mark read whatever Jane had written on the note, he scowled and crumpled the paper into a ball angrily. No one noticed, though, because at that moment, the bailiff began to ask of Jane, "Do you swear-"

"I _swear_, to tell the truth, the _whole_ truth, and _nothing_ _but_ the truth, _so_ _help_ _me_ _god_," Jane declared before another word could be said. Never had a vow been made more assertively; if anyone hadn't been giving him their absolute attention before, they were now.

The bailiff nodded and stood back, allowing Jane to pass. Jane climbed onto the witness stand and sat down.

Stage two was done. Now for the hard part.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I have little to no idea what a bailiff actually is. :P**


	21. Chapter 19

"Mr. Jane, please state your name for the record," Faith Chesterfield began.

"My name is Patrick Jane, I'm a consultant for the California Bureau of Investigation," Jane said into the microphone.

"Now, Mr. Jane, can you please tell us how it is that you first came to be involved in the Red John case?"

"Well, it's a rather long story, if I'm to fully explain everything that happened," Jane said.

Faith nodded. "Please."

Jane took a breath, then started telling his story from the beginning, as he had the BAU. It _was_ a long story, and one that had to be handled carefully, lest anyone think he was trying to get people to pity him - in reality, he _was_, but that was only part of the point. He kept his eyes on the jury the entire time, making sure to gauge their reactions to every word and calculate how much emotion he could allow himself to express at any given moment. It was an _incredibly_ fine line that he had to tread, and anyone who wasn't as good at reading people as he was - such as Lisbon - would probably think he was overdoing it by far. Jane didn't have to look at her to know that she was holding her face with her hands, silently begging him to stop talking, even though she had promised to trust him; it was just as well, because she was one of the people Red John would be paying attention to some of the time, and the more Red John believed that Jane was ruining his own case, the better.

"Agent Lisbon was the agent in charge of the Red John case, and when I recovered, I permanently signed on to join her team, if only as a consultant. I've been hunting Red John with the bureau's help ever since, catching other killers in the meantime to earn my keep," he finished at last.

"Mr. Jane…" Faith hesitated; obviously, she had half a mind to say something consoling about Jane's past. He shook her head at her ever-so-slightly, hoping no one else would notice, and she got the message. "How many years in total have you been trying to help law enforcement catch Red John?" she asked instead.

"Ten years," Jane answered.

"Can you describe how that's gone, in general?" Faith asked.

"Horribly," Jane replied frankly.

"Would you care to elaborate on that?"

"Well, as my colleague, Agent Lisbon, described at the start of this trial…" He then went back over the major points of the case, the very same ones Lisbon had discussed; the jury would hear it with new ears now. Without prompting from Faith, he then told everyone how his team and the BAU had crossed paths and the profile they had put together - a censored version of events, to conceal any reference to Lisbon's own horrible ordeal, but as much as possible. This may not have been "the whole truth", but the lie by omission was for a good reason, and not even meant to make the defendant look more guilty.

From there, he described the leads that they had pursued once they had an official profile, and how it had taken them only minutes after that to find Dr. Mark Doe. He didn't embellish anything here, openly describing how he had entered "Mar* Doe" as a query for the names of all residents of California based on a long-shot hunch and nothing more. He then described the rush to catch Red John and his arrest, glossing over the taunts Red John had subjected everyone to - those were a secret weapon he was saving for later, assuming a later did in fact come.

When he was done, Faith nodded. "No further questions," she told the judge, and she sat down.

Alyssa Lamb stood. Jane could see in her eyes that she felt very bad for him, for all the things he had endured at the mercy of Red John; all the same, she didn't believe Mark Doe was the one who had done it, so she would still defend him adamantly.

"Mr. Jane, I have just one question for you - a question I think _everyone_ in this room has been dying to know the answer to," she said: "How do you know, beyond any doubt, that the defendant, Dr. Mark Doe, is in fact Red John?"

Jane smiled. "Ah," he said. "That _is_ the question, isn't it? There are certainly many arguments that can be made that would provide reasonable doubt."

"Yes, there are," Alyssa said. "But for the record, you _do_ maintain that Mark is Red John?"

"I do," Jane confirmed.

"Is it possible that you've made an error?" Alyssa asked. "That perhaps Mark only matched your profile and hunch - which even you admit was a long shot-"

"Right," Jane agreed, nodding.

"-purely by chance?" Alyssa finished.

Jane shook his head. "No," he replied. "Doctor Mark Doe _is_ Red John, I know this for a fact."

"_How_ can you know that, though?" Alyssa asked. "Even if he told you he was, by your own account, Red John has many accomplices, and any of them would gladly die for him, wouldn't they?"

"They would," Jane said, nodding.

"So how do you _know_ Mark Doe is Red John?" Alyssa pressed.

Jane paused for effect, then sighed and leaned forward. "Alyssa, I have seen many kinds of people, of all sorts of ways of life and moral standards," he said, enunciating clearly. "I have looked into the eyes of many people and read all of them like books - that is my gift, to see everything there is to see." He took a breath. "In Mark Doe's eyes, I see a monster unlike anything I could ever have imagined," he told everyone.

"Mr. Jane…is it possible that you are only seeing what you want to see?" Alyssa asked gently. "You've been fighting a terrible battle for ten years, no one could blame you if you're desperate to see this end. I'm not accusing you of lying to us, but…could you perhaps be lying to _yourself_?"

"No," Jane stated. "What I see in Mark's eyes, I would never want to see - they will haunt my nightmares long after this is over."

"But even if that's true, not all wicked men are Red John," Alyssa pointed out; "some wicked men even _follow_ Red John, don't they?"

"Some wicked men _do_ follow Red John, it's true," Jane said, "but none of them can compare to the true Red John's evil; and what I see in Mark's eyes is that very unparalleled evil. His words may be lies, the evidence might be inaccurate - misdirects the real Red John left us with - the result of my query could have been chance, and I may be desperate to see the end of this, but what I see in his eyes could never be faked or imagined…and I _swear_ to you all, on the graves of my wife and daughter, that we would not even _be_ here if I did not _know_, with _absolute certainty_, that Doctor Mark Doe _is_ _Red_ _John_."

Alyssa nodded, unable to think of any response. "No further questions," she told Judge Peterson.

"Mr. Jane, you may be seated," Judge Peterson told Jane.

"Thank you, sir," Jane said as he stood.

There was breathless silence as Jane walked to rejoin the crowd. As he passed the lawyers, he leaned over and whispered three words in Faith's ear:

"Remember the plan."

With that, he returned to his seat.

Everyone was still for a minute, even Judge Peterson needing some time to gather his thoughts after everything Jane had said. At last, he indicated that the next witness could be called.

Faith stood. "Your Honor, the prosecution rests," she said.

This caused some mutterings in the crowd; hadn't she been about to call another witness besides Jane? But no, she was sitting back down, finalizing her statement.

"Very well," Judge Peterson said. "I now invite the defense to call forth any witnesses they may have."

Mark and Alyssa were arguing in fervent whispers, though it wasn't until now that anyone else noticed.

"Miss Lamb?" Judge Peterson called. "Do you have any witnesses to call?"

Alyssa stood, though she seemed distressed. "No, Your Honor," she answered, and everyone gasped; "the defense rests." And she sat back down.

Now everyone was talking to each other. Not one witness for the defense, not even Mark Doe himself? What were they thinking?

Only Jane sat still, smiling confidently. Lisbon looked to him for reassurance, but he had his eyes fixed on the people at the front of the room.

"Very well, then," Judge Peterson said at last. "Closing arguments. The prosecution?"

Faith stood. "The prosecution offers no closing arguments," she said; "the prosecution rests." And she sat back down.

The noise in the room grew; Jane's smile widened a bit.

"The defense?"

Again, Mark and Alyssa were arguing.

"Miss Lamb?" Judge Peterson pressed.

Again, Alyssa stood anxiously. "Your Honor, the defense offers no closing arguments, either," she said; "the defense rests." And she sat.

By now, the noise was almost deafening, as everyone exclaimed to their neighbor that this was very, _very_ strange.

"Very well," Judge Peterson said, "I now cede power to the jury; until such a time as they reach a verdict, this court is in recess." He banged his gavel once, and everyone started squeezing out of the room. Only Mark and Jane were still; Mark looked back at Jane, and Jane met his eyes. Each of them was wearing the same self-assured smirk.

_Fool,_ Mark thought; _you ruined your own case - no one would side with someone whose testimony is that outrageous._

_You just made your fatal mistake, Red John,_ Jane thought; _you should have paid more attention to the jury before you gave me all the power._

They both stood at the same time.

"Good luck," Jane mouthed at Red John.

"Same to you," Red John mouthed back.

Then Mark was returned to jail, and Jane filed out with the rest.

~o~

"You planned all of that ahead of time, didn't you?" Lisbon asked when she, Jane, and the rest of her team were outside at last.

"Every bit of it," Jane confirmed.

They stopped halfway down the steps, all turning to face each other.

"What did that note Red John gave you say?" Cho asked.

"It said 'Well played, Old Friend. -RJ'," Jane replied.

"And what did you say back?" Rigsby asked.

Jane smiled. "I said, 'Thank you. You too. -PJ'." He pantomimed drawing a face. "'Smiley face'."

"No wonder he looked pissed when he read it," Rigsby said.

Jane grinned. "Uh-huh," he said, sounding very pleased with himself.

"So tell me what just happened," Lisbon said, "because I still can't quite wrap my head around it."

Jane chuckled. "I told Faith to have you present the case, then call witnesses - as many as she could find - and have all of them give the final answer to the inevitable question of how they knew Mark Doe was Red John be because I say he is," he told his team. "I must say, she did a very good job - did she really lead all of you to that same conclusion without telling you the plan?"

"Yeah," Rigsby said. "She kept pressing me to explain how I knew until I said you said it was him, and when I said that no jury would accept that answer, she said that the honesty would go over well, testimony being given under oath and all."

"Yeah," Van Pelt said, thinking, "she did the same thing with me."

"Excellent," Jane said, grinning.

"So you were _trying_ to get the jury to petition you onto the stand?" Lisbon asked.

"Well, that was the _best_-case scenario, I didn't know it would happen for sure," Jane said, shrugging. "In any case, what I wanted was for everyone to wonder, more than anything else, how I knew that Doctor Mark Doe is Red John."

"Well, you certainly achieved that," Lisbon said, almost mockingly.

Jane grinned and nodded. "When I told her to do this, I told her that, no matter what, _I_ was to be the last witness to be called," he went on; "just in case something like a petition happened, though I didn't specifically tell her that. I then told her not to give any closing arguments. I wanted the last thing the jury was left with to be my testimony, or at the very least for my testimony to be as close to the last thing as possible."

"So how come Mark didn't call any witnesses or have Alyssa give closing arguments, either?" Lisbon asked.

"Ah," Jane said, "now _that_ was the _real_ trick. I had to make him think that my testimony was so over-the-top, no jury would side with me, without that actually being the case. It was an incredibly fine line I had to tread, but I kept a close eye on the jury with every word I said, making sure to come as close to crossing the line as I could without actually crossing it."

"And Red John thinks your testimony will get him acquitted?" Lisbon asked.

"Of course he does," Jane said; "that was why he wanted it to be what the jury was left with at the end as much as I did."

"But it _won't_ get him acquitted?" Lisbon pressed.

Jane shook his head and smiled. "The jury was on my side, all twelve of them," he told his team; "Red John doesn't stand a chance."

"How can you be so sure you're right and he's wrong?" Lisbon demanded. "This isn't the first time this has happened - you think you're playing him, he thinks he's playing you, and one of you is wrong…and no offense, but most of the time, _you're_ the one who's wrong."

"Oh, none taken, you're absolutely right," Jane reassured her. "The thing is, _I_ was paying close attention to the jury with every word I spoke, while _he_ was distracted by other things, such as how mad my response to his little note made him, how much he wants to kill Grace-"

Van Pelt visibly flinched at this.

"Don't worry, you were a perfect distraction," Jane told her; "the fact that he's indulging in the fantasy of killing you so much is part of the reason he'll never get to actually do it."

Van Pelt just hugged herself; Rigsby put a hand on her arm.

"And," Jane went on, turning to Lisbon, "he keeps saying he's in love with you; whether or not he even believes that himself, I don't know, but I know that some of the time, he was turning back to look at you…and _you_ probably had your face in your hands the whole time, praying with every word I spoke that I would shut up before I ruined everything." He smiled. "Weren't you?"

"I…" Lisbon blinked.

Jane chuckled. "Don't worry," he told her; "it's good that you doubted me - it's part of why he was so sure I was blowing it."

"So now what?" Cho asked.

Jane shrugged. "Now, we wait for the jury to convict him," he replied. He smiled reassuringly at all of them. "It won't take long. I promise."


	22. Chapter 20

~Three Days Later~

"Hi, I'm Charlotte, coming to you live from the state courthouse for jury watch in the case of the state versus Dr. Mark Doe, also known as Red John. I'm here with Patrick Jane, who has led the charge against this monster from the beginning. Mr. Jane, do you have any idea what could be taking the jury so long?"

Jane smiled. "No idea whatsoever," he said. Then he amended, "Well, I have _an_ idea, but I think I'll keep it to myself - wouldn't want to jinx anything." He chuckled.

"But your idea _is_ a _positive_ one?" Charlotte asked.

Jane shrugged. "I guess you could say that," he replied. "Still, I have to admit, I thought the jury would only take a few hours, if that - I wasn't expecting that we'd be waiting here for several days."

"You've spent every minute of this wait right here on the courthouse steps, even slept here every night," Charlotte said, "isn't that correct?"

Jane nodded. "Like I said before, no matter where _I_ am, my _mind_ is going to be right here; so, I might as well be, too."

"Well, you're very dedicated, Mr. Jane," Charlotte said, "and I think I speak for everyone when I say, we're all very glad we can share this fight with you."

"And I'm glad to have you with me for it, too," Jane said, smiling.

"Thank you, Mr. Jane," Charlotte said with finality. She turned back to the cameras and opened her mouth, but before she could say a word, the doors to the courthouse opened. Everyone jumped and turned to face the official who came out.

"The jury has reached a verdict," she announced.

There was an explosion of excitement, and as Charlotte officially announced the news and she and her camera crew readied themselves to be packed back into the courtroom, Jane was already worming his way through the crowd as fast as he could, even though his seat was reserved.

The moment of truth had come.

~o~

"All rise."

Judge Peterson came in and sat down. "Please be seated."

Everyone who had something to sit on sat, and the rest held motionless. The jury was in, and it was time.

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" Judge Peterson asked.

"We have, Your Honor," said juror number one. "We the jury find the defendant, Doctor Mark Doe…"

The world held its breath.

"…_guilty_."

Everyone gasped.

"…of numerous counts of first-degree murder, second degree murder, abduction, arson, hijacking, and…" The juror shrugged. "…pretty much everything else that goes with being Red John. In short, we find the defendant guilty of being Red John."

"Jurors, is this your own personal and final verdict? Juror number one?"

"Yes."

"Juror number two?"

"Yes."

"Juror number three?"

"Yes."

As the jury members were called on one at a time to confirm their decision and answered affirmatively, Jane's smile widened. _Guilty_. Against all odds, he had managed to play his cards _just right_.

He had done it.

"Juror number eleven?"

"Yes."

"And juror number twelve?"

"Yes."

Judge Peterson nodded. "I uphold the jury's decision," he declared, and he banged his gavel once.

And an enormous cheer erupted from the crowd - applause, whistles, screams of delight and approval. Everyone was glad to see Red John go down, more so than any other serial killer in history. But there was another sound mixed in with the celebration, and after a minute, it all suddenly died down, so that only the one sound remained.

Red John was laughing.

The very same laugh that still haunted Lisbon in her nightmares echoed through the room, sending chills down everyone's spines. It grew louder and louder, until Red John was positively cackling with amusement. He stood and turned around, sitting back against the table, and he looked Jane in the eyes and began to give him a slow clap.

"Well played, Old Friend!" he said, still laughing. "_Well_ _played_! I _am_ impressed! _Very_ well played indeed!" He continued his slow clap.

Jane smiled; everyone was silent.

"I think the jury has something else they want to say," Jane said after a moment.

"What?" Red John turned his head, his hands stopping mid-clap; everyone else turned to the jury as well. Juror number one was still standing, and he did indeed look like there was something more he wanted to say.

"Juror number one, is there something else?" Judge Peterson asked.

Juror number one swallowed nervously, then said, "Well, uh, it may not be our place to say, but…we figured we might as well give our input on the matter anyway. We, uh, the jury, advise that Red John's sentencing trial take place _soon_…tomorrow morning, maybe? And, uh, that the sentence should be death, as soon as possible."

Apart from several people blinking, there was no response.

"Er, uh, I am juror number one, and this _is_ my personal and final verdict on the matter," he said. "Juror number two, is this your personal and final verdict on the matter as well?"

"Yes."

"Juror number three?"

"Yes."

The jurors took turns adding their affirmative votes to this out-of-place judgement. Red John's eyes widened with every "Yes", his amused smile slowly twisting into a scowl of contempt. Jane, meanwhile, tried to contain his excitement - he had to save it at least until he got outside.

"Juror number eleven?"

"Yes."

"And juror number twelve?"

"Yes."

There was silence. At last, Judge Peterson cleared his throat.

"Well," he said, "though it may be unorthodox, I think an exception is warranted in this case," he said. He banged his gavel. "I uphold the jury's request."

"_What_?!"

"The sentencing trial will begin tomorrow at nine o'clock," Judge Peterson said firmly. "Until then, this court is dismissed." He banged his gavel again. Immediately, there was noise as people cheered and applauded some more, then proceeded to talk amongst themselves as they crowded out of the room.

Red John turned on Jane. "Well…played," he hissed.

Jane couldn't resist chuckling. "Thank you," he replied.

~o~

Jane was barely able to get out the doors. He bounded down the steps and, unable to hold it in anymore, he began jumping around and spinning in circles right there in front of the courthouse, oblivious to any onlookers, whooping and laughing, completely delirious with joy.

"Jane!"

Jane turned, just in time to catch Lisbon in his arms. He spun her around, both of them laughing joyously, embracing each other tightly.

"You did it!" Lisbon said through her happy tears. "You did it!"

"_We_ did it," Jane corrected, pulling back to look her in the eye.

They grinned. Then, Jane quickly brought his wedding ring to his lips.

"This is for Angela and Charlotte," he said.

"_And_ for Sam," Lisbon added.

"And for _you_," Jane added.

"And for you," Lisbon replied.

"And for everyone else he's ever hurt or killed…" Jane said.

Together they finished, "_Red John is going down_!"

"Oh, _come_ _here_!" Jane said, and he pulled her close and kissed her hard on the cheek. They laughed some more, and he spun her around again.

"I hate to rain on this parade, but Red John's not finished yet."

Cho, followed by Rigsby and Van Pelt, approached the happy couple.

Jane and Lisbon broke apart and turned to the rest of the team, both grinning.

"No," Lisbon said, "but he will be soon."

"Why are we celebrating _now_, exactly?" Rigsby asked.

"Because a jury has already broken the mold and asked for death as soon as possible," Jane explained. "And because Lisbon here…" He hugged her with one arm, in response to which she smiled, too happy to be in the least bit annoyed. "…made sure her sister was able to ensure that everyone in the state saw it, whatever jury we get tomorrow will only have to follow the lead of their predecessors." Jane grinned. "Getting the ball rolling is the hardest part," he told the team; "now, we just have to keep the momentum up, and that will be _cake_."

"You're _sure_?" Van Pelt asked nervously.

"Would I be celebrating if we weren't?" Lisbon asked. She couldn't stop smiling. It wasn't over yet, but it might as well be - Red John was as good as dead. After all these battles, all these losses, _finally_ they were going to take him down, and Lisbon had never been happier.

Van Pelt couldn't help but return her smile, if nervously.

Then, Charlotte approached the team - or, to be more specific, Jane.

"Mr. Jane!" she called.

Jane ran over to meet her and her cameras.

"Mr. Jane, the jury has found Mark Doe guilty of being Red John, and even managed to get his sentencing fast-tracked to tomorrow morning," Charlotte said; "how do you feel?"

Jane grinned. "I feel…like I've finally won," he said. "After all these losses and all these struggles, finally, _finally_, I'm bringing Red John down. I…don't know if I've ever been this happy before, even on my wedding day."

"Wow," Charlotte commented. "Of course, a second jury still has to sentence him, and he may well have time to escape from prison even then."

But Jane shook his head. "No," he said, "there's no chance of that happening. One jury has already broken the mold and taken the extra steps needed to stop Red John for good; all that's left is for the momentum to continue. Getting things to _start_ going in the necessary but unusual direction was always going to be the hardest part, and that's been achieved; now, things just have to keep going as they are."

"Well, obviously, you're very excited about all of this," Charlotte said.

Jane chuckled.

"What do you make of Red John's response to the jury's first decision?" she asked him.

"What, you mean the laughing and applauding me and complimenting me?" Jane asked. He shrugged. "I'm not sure. At a guess, I'd say he _was_ actually impressed, maybe even laughing at himself for falling for my trick - if nothing else, he's very honorable, and he's not a sore loser by any means. There's only one thing that gets on his nerves, and that's being insulted or disrespected; if his defeat is on his own head, he accepts it. That's just the way he is."

"He's very interesting, that's for sure," Charlotte said.

Jane chuckled again. "You don't know the half of it," he said cryptically.

"What will you do now?" Charlotte asked.

"Well, now, I have to get something ready for the trial tomorrow, I don't know how long that will take," Jane said. "After that…" He trailed off, thinking. He hadn't allowed himself to think about it before now, in case he failed, but now that the play was almost over, he thought of some Things he could do, things that would make this _perfect_…but should he bother?

He shrugged. "I'll be around," he finished. "Most likely, if you want to talk to me, I'll still be here - this is still where it's at, after all."

Charlotte smiled. "Well, congratulations on your victory, Mr. Jane," she said.

"Thank you, Charlotte," Jane said; "I'm glad I was able to share this victory with you and everyone else."

"And we're glad to get to share in it, too," Charlotte said.

Jane nodded, and then Charlotte turned to her cameras to do whatever reporter thing she needed to do. He, meanwhile, had seen the BAU standing by, waiting for him, and he walked over to them now.

"Hey, guys," he said.

"Mr. Jane, congratulations," JJ said, speaking for all of them. "You've fought long and hard for this."

Jane nodded. "Yes I have," he said, "and I have all of you to thank for it. Thank you." He turned to Garcia. "Penny, if you could meet me back at CBI HQ soon, we need to edit the tape for tomorrow."

"What tape?" Garcia asked, puzzled.

"You know…" Jane made a gesture, and somehow, she got the message.

"Oh!" she said. "Yeah, no problem."

Jane smiled. "I'll see you there," he said.

"Mr. Jane, before we go, have you considered our offer?" Hotch asked.

"Uh…" Jane thought for a minute. "You know, I think I still need some more time," he said at last. "I'll have an answer for you before you head back to Quantico, that much I can promise."

Hotch nodded, and they parted.

"What was that about?"

Jane turned to see Lisbon approaching him.

"Oh, I just need to get something ready for tomorrow," he told her, smiling. "You'll see it at the trial."

Lisbon smiled back. "Okay," she said, knowing it was pointless to ask and not even caring.

"Oh! That reminds me," Jane said, snapping his fingers. "You are not going to believe what happened to me," he told Lisbon.

She blinked. "What?"

He chuckled. "Well, remember how you said you wouldn't be surprised if they asked me to join them before they left?" he asked her.

Her eyes widened. "They didn't," she breathed.

"They _did_," Jane said, grinning.

All at once, Lisbon's happiness bubble popped. Her smile fell away, her cheerfulness extinguished. "W…Well, what did you say to them?" she heard herself ask.

Jane shrugged. "I told them I'd think about it," he said. "I've never really thought about having a life _after_ _Red_ _John_, you know? But it seems I _am_ going to have one, so…" He shrugged again. "Yeah, I'm not sure," he said; "I probably won't make up my mind until after he's dead."

_Just go!_ Lisbon wanted to shout. _Don't make me hope that you might turn them down when we both know you won't!_

But she didn't say anything out loud, and Jane walked away to meet Garcia back at HQ. She watched him go, thinking…She had always thought that ending Red John would mean being able to do her job without having to worry about that monster doing things in the background, without Jane being weighed down and broken inside. She wanted to work with a happy Patrick Jane, though now that she thought about it, without Red John to ground him, he might be even more of a nightmare than before. In any case, she had pretty much always taken it for granted that Jane was part of the CBI and always would be…Her dear friend, in some ways her hero, in other ways the worst thing about her life, but always _there_, for better or for worse.

She had never thought that the end of Red John would have to mean saying goodbye to Jane forever, too…


	23. Chapter 21

Editing the tape with Garcia only took a couple of hours before Jane was satisfied with it, but as it turned out, he was very busy the rest of that day, though a fair amount of that busyness involved phone calls. It was then that he started to get a feel for just how big a deal this whole affair had made him into over the past week…and as it turned out, he was a _very_ big deal - requests that even Lisbon didn't have the authority to make, people followed as soon as they heard his name. He was fast becoming a celebrity, and it wasn't too absurd to think it might reach a point where people would be tripping over each other to try to do favors for him. It all made him oddly uncomfortable…

Lila had called Reid several times, and he had followed Jane's direction days ago, but he didn't really know what to think. Why? Why not? For all his intellect, in this matter, he was completely ignorant, and rather dumb.

Hotch had updated Strauss on what was happening, and she was relatively pleased to hear that everything would be over soon. She made it very clear that she didn't want them to come back without Patrick Jane, though, and she was willing to wait for his consent.

Red John waited in his cell, thinking. How had his Old Friend managed to manipulate a jury right under his nose? It _was_ impressive, that he couldn't deny. The worst part was, if his Old Friend was equally successful during his sentencing, though he probably _could_ still find a way to escape, it would go completely against his integrity - if he was defeated fairly, he would bear the consequences, even if those consequences involved dying. But how to twist things in the meantime? If he had to fall, he would take a lot of minds and souls with him - not just lives, but psyches, identities…people like Alyssa, who believe there's good in everyone, would never be the same.

Charlotte was busy for a while, being the lead reporter on the entire affair, but she managed to make some time for herself. She wanted to talk to her sister, _off_ the record. So she made a phone call, and they agreed to meet outside CBI HQ - both Lisbon and Charlotte knew they might be summoned at any time, so Charlotte would stay with her car, and Lisbon would stay at the CBI.

Most people who didn't have anything in particular to do watched the news, even though they had been present for the trial itself. The discussions across the airways were interesting to say the least, and something might come up any second.

…And Van Pelt went through CBI HQ to talk to Director Bertram, whom she hadn't seen at the trial, not even when Faith had started calling forth every single person she could justifiably call a witness. He was in his office, on the phone as it turned out, with his back to the door. She didn't know what made her do it, but instead of knocking, she opened the door only slightly and strained her ears to hear what he was saying.

"I don't know!" he was exclaiming. "There's nothing I can do! You have no idea how many people I've called to try to even slow this thing down…" He paused as the other person spoke. "They went over my head, alright?" Bertram replied. "Things were in the works before I even knew about them. And some things I _had_ to go along with because my only reason _not_ to would be…" Again, the other person spoke. "Yeah, well, in case you haven't noticed, the whole state's in an anti-Red John frenzy," Bertram said in response. "I don't know how they did it, but if any one of us is found to be affiliated with him, people will tear us to shreds."

Van Pelt's breath caught.

"They won't find us if we don't give them reason to suspect us, Dove," Bertram said. "This is out of my hands - believe me, I've tried."

The phone beeped suddenly, signifying an incoming call from somewhere else.

"I have to go," Bertram told the person on the other end of the line. "I'm sorry, but I can't help - it's up to him now."

Van Pelt fled before he turned to hang up, her heart pounding. Could she have misheard? Was she only hearing what she was afraid to hear? Or was Bertram really one of Red John's friends? And what would it mean for them if he was?

~o~

Even Agent Lisbon would have had to be screened in order to enter the visiting room at jail, but Patrick Jane was able to exploit his newfound superstar status to bypass security. A large part of his fame portrayed him as a sort of monster hunter, a superhero almost. What could he possibly bring into a jail that would need to be screened?

Jane grinned as he saw the person he had come to see.

"Hey," he said, clasping the thug's hand familiarly.

"Patrick Jane," he said, half-mockingly; "to what to I owe this honor?"

Jane chuckled and sat down. "So you've heard, huh?"

The man shrugged. "Hey, news travels fast, even in jail. Of course, I don't know the details, but I know you finally caught Red John, and that he's a real piece of work."

Jane nodded. "Yes," he said, "and _that_ is why I'm here. How've you been?" he asked abruptly.

The man blinked. "Oh, uh…Well, I haven't gotten high once since you left," he replied.

"Good," Jane said, "I'm glad to hear it. But, ah, you do still call the shots, right?"

He smirked. "_They_ don't need to know I'm clean," he said.

Jane smiled. "So would it be fair to say you owe me a favor?"

He blinked, then narrowed his eyes. "I guess that depends on what type of favor you want to ask of me," he said guardedly.

Jane reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a glass vial with a glass stopper and a piece of cardboard. He looked around to make sure no one was watching, then handed both objects to his accomplice.

The vial perplexed him, but the cardboard…His eyes widened.

"Is this what I think it is?" he asked in a low voice.

"Yes," Jane said, lowering his voice as well, "but I need you to promise me you won't use it to try to escape, or for any other purpose besides what I'm giving it to you for."

"And why should I promise that?" he sneered.

Jane shrugged. "Hey, your life in here's pretty good," he said; "you're in charge, you have a roof over your head, three meals a day, air conditioning…if you try to escape, you'll be a fugitive - you won't be able to live a free man's life anyway. You're happy here, or close enough to it."

He hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, okay, I see your point," he conceded.

Jane smiled. "Excellent," he said. "Now, here's what I need you to do…" He told him.

The thug blinked. "Why?" he asked.

"I'll tell you _that_ when you give it to me, if you also give the, ah, other thing back," Jane replied.

He chuckled. "Bribing me now, huh?" he asked. But he shrugged. "Alright," he said; "it shouldn't be too hard."

"Thank you," Jane said, grinning, and he stood to go.

"Hey."

Jane paused. "Yeah?"

"You really hate that son of a bitch, don't you?"

Jane nodded. "More than words can express," he replied.

The thug chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll have things covered here," he told Jane.

"I know you will," Jane said, and he left.

~o~

"Hey, sis."

Charlotte smiled at her sister and closed the door to her car. "Hey."

"You wanted to talk to me about something?" Lisbon asked.

"Nothing in particular," Charlotte said, shrugging. "I just want to talk to my sister."

"Oh." Lisbon hesitated, then said, "I'd like to talk to you, too."

Charlotte tilted her head. "What's wrong, Terry?" she asked. "I saw you outside with Patrick after the conviction - you were happier than I've ever seen you before. What's got you down now?"

Lisbon took a breath. "It's nothing," she said. "It's just…apparently, the BAU have invited Jane to join them when they go back to Quantico."

Charlotte blinked. "Oh," she said. "Is he going to?"

"He says he has to think about it, but I can't think of any reason why he wouldn't," Lisbon said.

"Except you," Charlotte said in a too-casual tone.

"What do you mean?" Lisbon asked, confused.

Charlotte chuckled. "I saw him kiss you," she said coyly.

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "One, he kissed me on the _cheek_," she said; "two, we'd just taken down Red John - his life's mission for ten years! He was _happy_."

"Uh-huh," Charlotte teased, "he sure _looked_ happy."

Lisbon rolled her eyes again. "Look," she said, "Jane's my _friend_, alright? I'll admit that much. He's been doing your job since I met him, and I don't want to see him go. But it's okay. I'll deal with it - it'll be easier than parting ways with you was. I'm just not happy about it."

It was Charlotte's turn to roll her eyes. "Sis, you are the _queen_ of the Lovely Land of Denial," she said.

_"…you are the indisputable queen of the Deceptively Lovely Land of Denial…"_

Lisbon's eyes widened, the flashback catching her by surprise. She hadn't had one since her recovery…but there had just been so much of Red John lately…his words, his laugh, his _evil_…

_"…he doesn't give off energy, he sucks it in, like a black hole…"_

A whirlpool of dark memories surged through her head, sucking her in - memories of evil laugher and taunting words, of darkness and blood and _pain_…so much pain…She could feel Red John's knife hacking through skin, muscle, scratching bone…Helplessness, despair, breaking, dying…

_"You're mine."_

She couldn't hear her cell phone ring, couldn't feel her sister shaking her, couldn't hear her calling her name…

_"Yes."_

~o~

Jane was just leaving jail when his cell phone rang. Surprised, he picked up, and he was even more surprised that Director Bertram was the one who was calling.

"Where are you?" Bertram asked.

"Jail," Jane replied nonchalantly. "Why?"

"Get in here," Bertram said, his words clipped, as though he was irritated about something. "I have something to tell you and the rest of your team."

"Okay," Jane said.

Bertram hung up without another word.

_That was weird,_ Jane thought, but he didn't place much significance on it. He just got in his car and drove to HQ.

~o~

"Terry? Hey? Anyone home?"

Charlotte was trying to revive her sister, her amusement fading into panic as she snapped her fingers in front of her sister's face a few times. Something was very wrong, she didn't need to know anything else to realize that much.

"Teresa?"

Jane parked a fair distance away, and it was only by chance that his ears picked up Charlotte's unsuccessful attempts to get through to Lisbon. He turned at the voice…then ran over, as fast as he could.

"What happened?" he demanded, his face and voice dead serious.

Charlotte turned to him. "I don't know," she said as she stepped out of the way so Jane could put his hands on Lisbon's shoulders and look in her eyes. "One minute we were talking, the next…"

"What did you say?" Jane asked, not looking away from Lisbon. "What _exactly_ did you say?"

"I just…said she was the queen of the Lovely Land of Denial," Charlotte replied, confused.

Jane cursed under his breath, surprising Charlotte all the more. _A flashback._ After all this time, another flashback.

He glanced at Charlotte. This would cause a problem, he could already predict that much. "Forgive me, Lisbon," he muttered, and he kissed her.

Charlotte blinked…but Lisbon didn't respond.

Panic rose in Jane's chest. "How long has she been like this?" he demanded of Charlotte.

"Uh, I don't know, twenty minutes?" she replied.

Jane's face paled. "Oh, no." Lisbon had never been in a flashback for more than a minute before. He turned back to her. "Come on, Lisbon, I know you're still in there," he said, almost desperate to believe it. He kissed her again, a bit harder than usual for all the difference it might make.

Lisbon's eyes flickered, and Jane thought he heard a soft groan.

"Come back, Lisbon," he said. "Come back. You're safe."

The flicker was gone, and so was the sound. There was no help for it; he kissed her a third time, again a bit harder, then held her closer. "You're safe," he murmured. "Please come back."

"Mmm…"

He definitely didn't imagine her groan this time. He pulled back, looking her in the eye. "Lisbon, look at me," he said. "Look at me."

She blinked a few times in rapid succession.

"Come back, Lisbon," Jane said. "Look at me. Come back. You're safe."

She groaned again, then raised her hands and rubbed her eyes.

After a minute, she looked again. "…Jane?" she asked.

Jane let out a tremendous sigh of relief. "Yes," he said, "yes, that's right, I'm here."

"What happened?" Lisbon asked, her voice still rough, as though she was still waking up from a deep sleep.

"You had a flashback," Jane told her.

Lisbon's eyes widened, suddenly clearing.

"It's my fault," Jane said; "I should have known that after all this stuff with Red John, you'd be vulnerable-"

"Jane."

Jane blinked; Lisbon's eyes were fearful. "Yes, Lisbon?"

"Please tell me you didn't kiss me in front of my sister," she said faintly.

"It's the only thing that snaps you out of it, you know that," Jane said. "It was pure luck that I was even here as soon as I was - twenty minutes you were out of it! I had to kiss you three times!" He shook his head. "If Bertram hadn't told me to come by…Damn it, Lisbon, I thought I'd lost you for good for a second there…"

But Lisbon had turned her wide eyes to her right, forcing herself to look at her sister. Charlotte had her arms crossed, and her expression was smug.

"Look, sis, let me explain-" Lisbon tried to say.

"I don't need to have anything explained to me," Charlotte said.

"Uh, based on your expression, I'd say you do," Jane commented bluntly. "But _I_ will be the one to explain." He turned to Lisbon. "Right now, Bertram wants us - I'm guessing you missed the call while you were out of it, but he told me he wants to say something to the whole team." He put a hand on her back, guiding her inside. "Come on," he murmured. He turned back to Charlotte. "You, come inside, sit down, and wait for me," he ordered.

"Uh…okay," Charlotte said, a bit taken aback.

Lisbon wanted to shake Jane's hand off, make a snarky remark, _something_, but the truth was, she was badly shaken. Even in front of Charlotte, she couldn't summon the strength to act tough.

Another flashback. Damn it…She had thought that it was _over_. She had fully recovered! And in front of her sister, of all people…

"Lisbon, I'm sorry," Jane murmured to her as they walked through the building. "I'm so sorry. It's my fault; after everything that's been going on, I should have known this might happen. I shouldn't have let you out of my sight-"

"I don't need you to babysit me," Lisbon said, not half as strongly as she would have liked but proud of herself for being able to push back at all.

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Lisbon," Jane said; "now convince me of it."

"I…" She hesitated. "Not right now," she said, shamefaced. "I…I need a minute."

Jane nodded as they stepped off the elevator. "If you need it, I'll kiss you again-"

"You've kissed me quite enough, thank you," Lisbon said firmly, holding up a hand. Jane smiled; he'd been trying to provoke her to help her recover, and he had succeeded.

Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt were already assembled in Bertram's office. Jane was too concerned about Lisbon to notice Van Pelt's nervousness.

"So, you finally got here," Bertram said, irritated about something.

"Well, I'm sorry, Lisbon had a flashback and I just happened to be passing by because you called me," Jane told him.

"Another flashback?" Rigsby asked, concerned.

"I-I'm fine," Lisbon said, not as convincingly as normal.

"Well, maybe I have something that'll help," Bertram said. He stood. "Somehow, the Red John case has turned you all into heroes," he said. "While I'm glad we're putting a stop to a terrible serial killer…I'm not quite sure it deserves the attention it's gotten."

"Oh, uh, that was my idea," Jane spoke up. "I needed to have everyone united against Red John so it would be easier to take him down."

Bertram scowled. "Yes, well, you've certainly succeeded," he said. "The DA's office called me a little while ago to congratulate me for your achievement, and asked that I extend his congratulations to all of you as well."

"Director Bertram, sir, I don't mean to be rude, but is that all you wanted us for?" Lisbon asked.

"No," Bertram said. He took a breath, then said, "Because your accomplishment is so great…I'm giving all of you a two-week-long paid vacation as soon as the entire Red John affair ends."

Several people blinked; Van Pelt gasped.

"Wow," Jane said. "Didn't see that one coming."

"Thank you, sir," Lisbon said.

"Don't thank me," Bertram growled as he sat back down, "I'd probably be fired if I did anything else, the way everyone's talking about you."

"So you aren't glad Red John is being stopped?" Van Pelt asked, an odd note to her voice.

"Of course I am," Bertram said; "I just don't think it needs to be this big of a deal." He sighed, then waved them away. "Go about your business, whatever you want to do," he said.

The team stayed where they were for a moment, surprised. Then Jane turned and left to go talk to Charlotte, and this unfroze everyone else.

Van Pelt stopped at the door and looked back at Bertram.

"Grace?" Rigsby asked. "You okay?"

"Fine," she said tonelessly, still staring at Bertram. She lingered a moment longer, then left with everyone else.

~o~

Charlotte was sitting in the lobby, all but chuckling to herself. She was _never_ going to let her sister live this down, especially after all that stuff about just being friends and him leaving not being a big deal.

When Jane came by after a few minutes and sat down next to her, she smirked at him. He met her eyes, unsmiling, and slowly, her smirk faded. Patrick looked dead serious, almost scarily so.

"Charlotte," he said, his tone unreadable.

"Yes?" she heard herself ask.

Jane took a breath. "A few years ago…something happened to your sister," he told her. "Something bad - _very_ bad."

"_How_ bad?" Charlotte asked, confused.

"Well…you know how strong she is," Jane said. "What happened to her was very slow, and very painful, and in the end, it broke her spirit."

Charlotte's eyes widened. She couldn't comprehend a force powerful enough to break Teresa's spirit - her sister was always a tower of strength, unshakable.

"I managed to save her before she died," Jane went on, and Charlotte suppressed a gasp. _Died_? "But by the time I got to her, living didn't mean anything to her anymore, and…she didn't want me to rescue her."

"Wh…?" Charlotte was stunned.

"She was struggling, making it impossible for me to unlock the chains that were holding her," Jane continued, and Charlotte put a hand to her mouth. _Chains_? "So, I did the only thing I could think of, to get her to hold still…I had to shock her. So, I kissed her."

"Oh…but…" Charlotte blushed, remembering how, just a minute ago, she had been determined to tease Teresa about this. There was nothing less tease-worthy than something this serious.

Jane looked at Charlotte, meeting her eyes steadily. "Sometimes, your sister has flashbacks to what happened to her - she hasn't had any since she fully recovered, but recent events made her vulnerable. There's no telling what might set one off…but because of what I had to do to save her life…well, there's this thing called 'traumatic memory image' - when something happens during a traumatic event that is forever branded in a person's mind, to always be associated with an experience, pleasant or unpleasant."

"So…traumatic memory image of when you kissed her…?"

"Is something her brain permanently associates with being alive and well and safe," Jane finished, "and when she has a flashback, nothing else can snap her out of it." He took a breath. "I was always with her every time she had a flashback while she was recovering, so she had never been out of it for more than a minute at a time before. Apparently, the longer she's in that state, the harder it is to get her to snap out of it…For a second there, I thought she was gone."

"Oh my god…" Charlotte felt slightly sick. "What…what exactly happened to her?"

Jane hesitated. "I'm going to tell you, because I know that if I don't you'll wonder, and probably end up pestering _her_ to tell you," he said at last, "but I want you to promise me that you will never bring it up with her, _ever_. It's bad enough that she had to live through it once."

"Okay, yeah, I promise," Charlotte said.

Jane nodded. "Red John…abducted her, and tortured her for three weeks straight," he told Charlotte.

Charlotte's eyes went round, and she clasped her hands over her mouth in shock.

"Yes, it is as bad as it sounds," Jane added.

Charlotte took a minute, then asked, "How come there's no record of it? I read the Red John case file cover to cover-"

"I made sure there was no record of it," Jane told her. "Like I said, it's bad enough that she had to live through it once; I don't want any reminders of it to be around, anywhere."

Charlotte nodded. "Well…thank you…for saving my sister," she said.

Jane sighed. "She wouldn't have needed saving if it wasn't for me," he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing," Jane said, waving her away. "Go, you're probably needed back wherever you work."

"Okay." Charlotte stood, hesitantly, then slowly walked outside to her car. Her thoughts were scattered, but there was one thing she felt she could conclude with certainty: Things between her sister and Patrick Jane were a lot more complicated than she'd thought.


	24. Chapter 22

People were crowded around the courthouse even before sunrise, all eager to see the second trial. When the doors opened, everyone filed in, too eager to even fight each other for space, wondering what could possibly happen this time.

Before long, everyone was settled, and the trial officially began. When it was time for the prosecution to call witnesses, this time, there was no messing around - Patrick Jane took the stand right away. He made his oath as assertively as last time, sat on the witness stand, and spoke.

"I'm not going to repeat any of my testimony from last time," he said; "you've all heard it, and I don't want to waste any more time. What I need you to understand now is just exactly what we are working to put a stop to." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the tape. "This," he told everyone, "is an audio recording of Red John's arrest, from the moment Agent Lisbon and her team first confronted him to the moment he was, ah, taken from his home. This tape _has_ been modified, I will confess that right now, but this was only done with the intention of protecting the privacy of a certain individual, _not_ to make the defendant look more guilty or horrible than he is." He hesitated. "Some of you will probably regret hearing this," he added, more softly, "but you need to understand what we're dealing with, and why we must put a stop to him _now_."

And with that, he put the tape by the microphone and pressed play.

It began with the sound of Lisbon smashing through the door to Red John's workspace. Everyone heard the casual "The door wasn't locked, you know," that had followed. There was the initial exchange between Jane and Red John, and then the taunts began.

Not only had parts of the story been removed, but some parts had also been remixed, to hide any reference to Lisbon's ordeal at the hands of Red John; but as Jane had promised, those were the _only_ things removed from or changed about the tape. This meant that the whole state heard the rest of the things Red John said - his taunts aimed at each of the agents in turn, his lust for Van Pelt…and most importantly of all, the story of his one regret, the one that described his true nature.

Jane had to close his eyes and grip the sides of the podium, very tightly at times. Anyone who glanced at his face could see the pain and effort he was struggling with as he lived through the confrontation a second time - though rarely did anyone give thought to anything except the words they were hearing while the tape played.

When at last Red John had declared that Jane would pay for his insults, and the door to his home was closed behind him, the tape ended.

For a minute, everything was silent. Even Faith Chesterfield hadn't heard this tape until now, and she, like most others, was in shock. Almost everyone slowly wrapped their minds around what Red John was, what true evil looked like…and even Alyssa Lamb - sweet, trusting, idyllic Alyssa, who believed in human goodness - had to come to terms with the fact that Red John was nothing more, less, or different than a monster, and needed to be stopped.

"That's all," Jane said at last, and he stood and returned to his seat, without any prompting.

"The prosecution rests," Faith said faintly, without even standing.

Judge Peterson nodded.

Then everyone looked at Red John, and those who could see his face were shocked yet again - he had his fingers laced under his chin, and he was smirking, as though the whole thing was amusing to him, nothing but a well-told joke.

He turned to Alyssa, who was staring at him in open-mouthed disbelief.

"Call me," he told her, perfectly audible in the absolute silence. "Regardless of what hitherto-incomprehensible thoughts are cutting through your tiny brain, you _are_ obligated to do your job."

Alyssa's eyes widened, but she didn't move; she seemed frozen.

"Very well, then," Red John said after a minute, standing. "I'll call myself."

And he did. When asked if he would tell the truth, etc., he said in a snakelike voice, "Oh, I do…though you'll wish I hadn't." He laughed as he walked up to the witness stand and sat.

For a moment, he was silent, drinking in the expressions of all the traumatized people in the courtroom, knowing there were many more watching through Charlotte's cameras. After a minute, Alyssa found her voice, and she began, "Dr. Mark Doe-"

"Oh, be silent, girl," Red John snapped. "We all know who I am, let's not deny it any longer, shall we?" He lifted his chin and proudly declared, "_I_ _am_ _Red_ _John_, and I would appreciate it if you refer to me as such." His wicked smile widened.

Silence.

At last, he chuckled. "I must admit, it's sort of a relief to not have to pretend any longer, to not have to hide behind a false smile and lies I _so_ very much loathed having to tell," he told the crowd. "I enjoy seeing the horror on all your faces, and I enjoy not having to pretend I don't. I am glad…_so_ very glad…to at last be able to speak openly, to all of you, without false pretenses or deception.

"I tell you now, I am every bit as horrible as my Old Friend there has made me out to be and worse." He gestured to Jane, who was looking at him expressionlessly. "I am a monster," he declared, lifting his chin with pride once more. "I am a living nightmare. I am more evil than anything you could imagine, and I am nothing but proud of it. I enjoy what I do, what I am. I'm not sick, I'm not broken, there's nothing wrong _with_ me - I simply _am_ wrong. There is nothing in me to pity or try to understand with logic or reason as they are commonly understood. If you look at my brain, you will see no deformity, no abnormality, nothing characteristic of serial killers as you know them." He smirked. "I sit here in full view, as sane as any of you: A twisted freak who could not be more proud of his status as such."

He let this sink in. Only Lisbon, who was used to hearing him talk about himself like this, could really think objectively about what he was saying…and she wondered what he was planning. He liked to hear himself talk, and he liked to brag about what he was, but he never did or said anything without careful consideration. Yet here he was, making everyone hate and fear him even _more_ - making them _more_ likely to want to end him. _What are you up to, freak?_ Lisbon wondered, her eyes narrowing at him.

"Whether or not I am human is…debatable," Red John went on at last; "I prefer to say I'm not, and whether you agree or disagree is unimportant. However, I can say this much: I _am_ a _person_ - a very different person from any of you, certainly, but as such, the same."

Many people blinked with surprise.

"I am subject to passion and misjudgments," he went on. "I can think and feel and reason and make decisions like any of you - though my priorities and morals are very different, I do _have_ them, same as you all. I have a heart, even - I know I do, because I can love."

Gasps of shock and confusion whispered through the room, like the rustling of leaves in the wind.

"Oh yes," Red John said, his smile widening slightly at the incredulity on most faces, "I am not cold or empty. I can feel, I can want, and _I can love_. There was a time when I wasn't sure I could, myself, but then…" His eyes turned on Lisbon. "Then…someone very special happened to me." He chuckled. "If I may be forgiven for violating the privacy of the one my Old Friend has worked so hard to protect…" He gestured to Lisbon, meeting her eyes. "Teresa Lisbon, My Dear Little Saint. I've said it many times before, and I will say it now, with the whole state as witness: I love you."

The gasps and whispers rose to mutters.

"A braver and stronger person this world has never seen," he went on, and this incited even more surprise and discussion. "I respect you, I admire you, and I would not have you come to harm…Indeed, as I have proven, I would _protect_ you, though part of me loathes myself for it."

Even the jury members were talking among themselves now. Lisbon kept her face expressionless, but her mind was racing, and she was starting to get an idea of where this was going.

Then, Red John smiled at her - a warm, almost loving smile, lighting up his features, transforming his face from dark yet alluring to bright and handsome, almost beautiful…as beautiful, perhaps, as Lucifer was said to have been before he fell.

The voices stopped, the gasps returned, as everyone saw this and was struck silent with awe.

"I am a monster," he said, "but I am no less a person than anyone else in this room." And he certainly looked it, then.

He turned his gaze from Lisbon, and his face and expression returned to being dark and foreboding. He looked at the jury now, all twelve members of which were staring at him, completely awestruck.

"I don't have an impulse, like common serial killers," he told them. "For me, it is not an addiction, a need, to kill. Blood, fear, pain, and death…I don't _need_ it, any more than any of you need, say, candy. It is an indulgence, one I do not deny myself, for I do not want to, but I am not cold. The pleasure I take in killing comes not from satisfying an urge, but from indulging in a delight…and what I delight in most of all - more than fear and agony, more than dread and despair - is the permanence of death."

His smile broadened mockingly at this, and Lisbon had a feeling she knew what he was going to say.

"Death is absolute," he told the jury. "When a person dies - a conscious being, with a life, a story, hopes, dreams, ideas, opinions, pleasures and pains, a unique outlook on the world that no one has ever had before and no one will ever have again - all of what they are is gone. I highly doubt there is an afterlife or a higher power - and indeed, you might as well ask yourselves now rather than later, what 'God' would let _me_ happen to this world?"

Van Pelt made a sound, something between a gasp and a whimper. Red John heard it clearly, and he reveled in the sound while it lasted, brief though it was.

"No," Red John hissed, more evilly now than ever, "surely, the human soul dies with the body - there is no higher power to see it preserved, no afterlife, no immortality. When a person dies, they _die_. And I take great pleasure in that, especially when it is by my own hand and blade."

He leaned forward slightly, almost intimidating. "Now tell me," he said softly: "Would _you_ take such pleasure in _my_ death?"

Again, gasps and mutters rippled through the room. Was he really making the comparison he seemed to be making?

"I am no less a person than any of you," Red John said; "if I die, then like all my victims, I _die_. I will cease to exist. Tell me…do you take pleasure in that thought? Does it make you happy, make you want to rejoice? It does, I can see it on your faces, _all_ of you…So tell me…if you take as much pleasure in my death as I would take in yours, what makes you so different from me?"

The silence that met this was deafening. People had their mouths open, trying to think of a response, something that made it different, but because of things Red John already said, each reason was invalidated almost as soon as it was found.

Red John laughed. "Go on, end me," he dared the world; "and in doing so, _join me_. Who knows? Some of you might find my death so delightful, you'll want to experience it again! Let my death make you the same as me - let you _all_ be turned into monsters by ending my life! If that's really what you want, then that is what I want, too - I can think of no way I'd rather die, than by dragging every person in this entire state down with me into darkness and evil. I once thought the best death would be in ending my Old Friend here, but now, I'm faced with a better one! If you kill me, then in a way, I will live on, in all of _you_!" He laughed loudly, wickedly, triumphantly almost.

People were talking amongst themselves now, frantically, brokenly, all of them cast into doubt.

"Didn't see that coming," Jane muttered.

Lisbon hesitated. "I did," she said after a minute.

Jane turned away from Red John to glance at her. "You did?" he asked, surprised.

Lisbon nodded. "This is what he does," she said; "he manipulates people with the truth as much as possible. He's a mentalist, too."

Jane looked at Red John again. "Will it be enough?" he asked out of the corner of his mouth.

"I don't know," Lisbon replied, and she was worried to find that she was telling the truth.

"Make your choice," Red John hissed, looking at the jury, and again there was silence. He glared at Jane and added, "And make no mistake, it is _your_ choice - you shouldn't let anyone else make it for you…especially not _Patrick_ _Jane_, complete and utter moron that he is." He spat the name out with as much loathing and contempt as he could muster, but he _did_ speak it, as he had sworn he never would. This surprised Lisbon more than anything. "You can choose to be manipulated by him, or you can choose to be manipulated by me…_or_, you can use your _own_ brains to make your _own_ decisions," he went on. "Whatever you choose, make sure you at least know which choice you are making." He sat back. "That is all; I have nothing more to say."

And as the whispers and mutterings among the crowd resumed, Jane felt a small prickle of doubt. Red John had spoken well - far better than he could have imagined. Would it be enough?

"You may be seated," Judge Peterson said.

"How gracious of you to say so," Red John sneered mockingly, making it clear he couldn't care less what Judge Peterson said he may or may not do. All the same, he stood and returned to his seat.

"The defense rests," Alyssa said, her tone empty; clearly, she was still in shock.

"Can't believe he actually said your name," Lisbon muttered to Jane as the ending formalities of the trial were conducted (or waved aside) and the jury was sent away to deliberate. When the jury had vanished, everyone looked to Jane, but he gave no indication that he was going to rise from his seat anytime soon. The people followed suit.

After a moment, Red John stood and turned around to address Jane.

"Well played, Old Friend," he said.

"Same to you," Jane replied calmly. He tilted his head. "That whole speech was total nonsense, wasn't it?"

"My words were true enough," Red John replied with a shrug.

"Was it hard to compare yourself to us?" Lisbon asked, almost tauntingly. "You think you're so much better than everyone else-"

"Well, define 'better'," Red John chuckled. "In many ways, I am superior to any of you, but everyone in this room - in the _world_ - is a 'better' person than I. And in the end, it remains true that no matter how else you look at it, I _am_ a person."

Lisbon smirked. "A simple 'yes' would have sufficed, you know," she teased.

Red John chuckled. "Oh, My Dear…" he said fondly, shaking his head. "I do love you so. I feel privileged to have even met you." He shot a glare at Jane. "Take care of her, won't you?" he said.

Jane blinked. "I…have no idea how to respond to that," he said slowly.

Red John rolled his eyes. "Of course you don't," he spat. "It's just that you've impressed me so much with all of this, I momentarily forgot that you are a complete and utter moron. If anything, _she_ is the one who will have to take care of _you_. Pardon my slip," he added contemptuously.

"If I'm a complete and utter moron, how have I managed to bring things this far?" Jane challenged.

Red John's lip curled with contempt. "Perseverance, a great deal of outside help, and a gift," he replied. "_That_ is how you have made all this happen. But not with even the _tiniest_ shred of intelligence, make no mistake about that."

Jane chuckled. "Did it hurt to say my name?" he asked.

"If circumstances permitted, I would wash my mouth out with bleach," Red John growled darkly in reply.

"So why did you, anyway?" Lisbon asked.

Red John sighed. "Because he earned it," he said. He looked at Jane. "You've earned this victory fairly," he told him, "and if this ends the same as it has gone of late, I will concede defeat, and die. It was up to me to outsmart you, and if I failed, that is on me."

For a moment, all was still. Then, Jane stood, walked to the divider between the audience and the court, and held out his hand. "May the best mentalist win, then?" he asked.

Red John chuckled amusedly…then reached out and shook Jane's hand. "May the best mentalist win," he agreed.

The handshake ended, and Jane sat back down amid a roomful of whispers. Lisbon's eyes were wide, and she wondered how many people understood the significance of what they had just witnessed. Two people who lived to hate each other - ultimate good and ultimate evil - shaking hands in agreement on something…It was almost a miracle.

Then Red John looked at Van Pelt, and his smirk turned predatory.

"I can't believe it took me until now to remember _you_, My Treasure," he said to her.

Van Pelt's eyes widened; her whole body was shaking.

Red John gave a low, evil laugh. "Where was your 'God' when I was born, girl?" he hissed. "What sort of 'God' would let me happen to the world? Hmm? Can you answer me that?"

Van Pelt seemed frozen.

"Grace?" Rigsby asked, concerned.

She gave no indication that she heard him.

Red John moaned, shameless in his arousal, which even began to manifest visibly. "The perfect prey…frightened little rabbit that you are…" he hissed. "Sad, really, that I didn't find you until my time was almost over…I would have enjoyed you _so_ _much_…"

"You're sick!" shouted someone in the crowd.

Red John turned his burning gray eyes on the person who had spoken, singling them out without hesitation, and the woman cowered slightly.

"Sick?" he repeated. "I see something I want. If that bothers you, it's _your_ problem, not mine."

"Don't even try," Lisbon advised the people in general. "He doesn't think the same way we do."

Red John smiled. "No, I don't," he said. "It's really quite liberating to not have to even pretend anymore." He raked his eyes over the crowd. "You know, every word in existence was invented by humans," he told them, "and any meaning attributed to them was also invented by humans. Cultural conventions about decency or manners - all invented by humans. They have no more significance than you give them." He smiled. "I don't count myself as human, truth be told. Your conventions do not interest or inhibit me. And again, if that bothers any of you, it's _your_ problem, not mine."

No one had any response to this. In truth, all of their minds had been blown wide open by everything they had heard today (and it wasn't even noon yet); ideas they would have once dismissed, they now found themselves considering with newfound objectivity.

"You know, you're almost like supervillain in a cartoon in terms of how ridiculously evil you are," Jane said thoughtfully after a minute. "It should be comical, but you wear it well…It's actually quite impressive how scary you are, to be honest."

Red John's eyes narrowed.

"But like any cartoon supervillain, there's one sad thing that can be said about you," Jane went on, sitting forward, "and even though it's cliché, I'm going to say it anyway."

Blue eyes met gray, strongly and steadily.

"You could have done so much good in the world," Jane said.

Red John blinked; everyone stared at Jane.

"You really _are_ capable of the things you promised your friends you'd do," Jane went on. "You could have changed the world in so many positive ways." He shook his head. "It's a shame you decided to waste your gifts on being evil."

"It wasn't a waste to me," Red John sneered; "I'm proud of every moment of it - with the one exception."

"Yes," Jane said. "Still, I figured it was worth saying."

"And it is duly noted," Red John said mockingly.

And then the jury returned. The glares they directed at Red John were more than answer enough - Jane and Red John both saw it in the same instant, and one silently rejoiced while the other silently raged. The results were presented without delay.

"We the jury sentence Red John to death by lethal injection, to be carried out before tomorrow if possible. Is this your personal and final decision? Juror number one?"

"Yes?"

"Juror number two?"

"Yes."

With every "yes", Red John's scowl deepened. He _had_ to admit defeat, he'd sworn it in public - there was no going back on it now…but no way in hell was he going to even _pretend_ to be okay with it.

"Juror number eleven?"

"Yes."

"And juror number twelve?"

Juror number twelve leaned forward and declared, "Not just yes, but _hell_ yes!"

"Well said," Judge Peterson praised. "I approve." He looked at the monster they were about to slay. "Red John, you will die at midnight tonight," he declared, and he banged his gavel.

Every person who had been sitting stood; a cheer erupted in the room.

"_NO_!" Red John snarled, his wrath intimidating even in his powerlessness. "You can't do this! I have rights!"

"Correction," Lisbon called over the noise, "_human_ _beings_ have rights."

Everyone fell silent.

Lisbon smirked. "I'm afraid you don't qualify," she said mockingly.

Laughter echoed in the room, mixed with some scattered applause and a few more cheers. Red John's eyes widened as he realized what was happening.

"Hey Red John!" Jane called over the noise, and again the people quieted.

Red John's gray eyes glared at Jane.

"How does it feel?" Jane asked. "How does it feel, to be alone, to be completely powerless, to know that you're going to die and there's nothing you can do about it? Huh? How does it feel, to have nowhere to run, no one to turn to? How does it feel, to know that the person you hate with every fiber of your being is holding all the cards, and you have nothing, nothing at all? _How_ _does_ _that_ _feel_?"

There was silence.

Jane grinned. "It's hurts, doesn't it?" he asked mockingly. "Well, it's what you deserve." He turned to the crowd. "Am I right?" he called to them, raising his hands, and as his hands raised, sound exploded through the room. Shouts of agreement, applause, cheers, people making as much noise as they could to show their approval nearly shredded the eardrums of everyone there, but none of them cared. Even the jury, the bailiffs, the judge…even the lawyers - even _Alyssa_ _Lamb_ - were cheering and applauding. Jane turned back to Red John, knowing that every individual in the state (who hadn't allied themselves with Red John beforehand) was united behind him, against this one person who had tormented him for so long. Red John knew it, too, and Jane watched with satisfaction as Red John's mighty spirit crumbled. He seemed almost to collapse in on himself, until he was half his previous size. He was powerless, helpless, and he knew it.

_This was worth not killing him for,_ Jane thought, his heart swelling. _This was worth all the pain and suffering. This was worth it._

He let the crowd cheer for a minute longer - as long as he could, until anger began to spark through Red John's despair.

"Bailiffs!" Jane called over the noise, and again, at his voice, the people quieted.

He gestured to Red John. "Please restrain this, ah, _thing_, before he rips my head off," he said casually.

"Now _there's_ an idea!" Red John snarled, but the bailiffs were already on him, restraining him, though he struggled with all his might. For a minute, Lisbon was worried that he was too strong, that even four men holding his arms wouldn't be enough - she had seen him literally break out of handcuffs, after all - but though Red John's eyes bulged with fury, he could do nothing. He was dragged through the crowd, and everyone converged on him, shouting at him, spitting at him, all of them clamoring for a chance to at least punch or scratch him - they would have literally ripped him to shreds if his escorts hadn't defended him.

Then he was out, and people were crowding out behind him, still cheering for joy and jeering at Red John. Jane looked at Lisbon, and she smiled at him. There would be no more dancing - this was too big even for that; instead, without a word, they hugged each other tightly. Rigsby hugged Van Pelt, Garcia hugged Morgan, JJ hugged Reid, Hotch and Rossi clasped hands and smiled at each other victoriously, and even Cho was grinning.

After so many years, so many struggles, and so many losses, Red John was finally getting what he deserved.


	25. Chapter 23

Jane followed up with Charlotte for an official report, saying everything there was to say and letting her know that he would be moving his campout from the courthouse to the place where Red John would be executed that night.

What he didn't tell her was that, before the execution, he was waiting for a phone call. No one needed to know that, at least not yet…

~o~

Red John was surprised when, instead of being led back to his cell, his guards began to escort him to the common area.

"I thought I was in solitary confinement?" he said to them.

"Not anymore," one of them replied; "we've been given orders to treat you as a normal criminal."

_Mingle with the hoi poloi?_ Red John thought. _Huh…I suppose that's _slightly_ degrading…but really, it's only slightly. What's the _true_ purpose, I wonder?_ He didn't need to ask whose authority the change had been made under - even in solitary, he was fully aware of just how big a deal his Old Friend had become. If he was honest with himself, it really was impressive. But what was the point of _this_?

He didn't have to wait long to find out; as soon as he was locked in with the others, a deathly quiet fell over the crowd. A similar thing had happened, he knew, the first time his Old Friend had been in this same position. The thought made him smile in spite of himself.

"Is there a problem?" he asked everyone.

Instead of a verbal response, everyone in the room stood and converged on him. This confused Red John…and, if he was a hundred percent honest with himself, scared him slightly. The fear was quickly banished by anger - fear was for _prey_, and whatever was about to happen, he would bear it without flinching.

He didn't resist as several thugs held him against the mesh wall, holding his arms out. He heard a guard mutter "Should we break it up?", in reply to which his fellow said "Maybe in a few minutes." The two chuckled. He was alone and helpless. But he wouldn't degrade himself by asking for help; whatever was about to happen, he would bear it.

A certain thug walked through the crowd to stand in front of Red John.

"An old friend of yours wants something from you," he told him.

Red John chuckled. "Besides my life, you mean?" he asked mockingly.

In response, the thug reached into his pocket and took out a glass vial and…a razor blade.

_Oh, you brainless piece of scum,_ Red John thought. _I hate you _so much_._

The thug stepped forward, took the blade, and made a cut on the underside of Red John's forearm - just deep enough to drip blood. Red John didn't flinch, didn't gasp, didn't give any indication that he felt any pain - and really, the pain was so minor, it was easy to dismiss. He was satisfied to see a flicker of fear in several people's eyes at his lack of a response. _That's right,_ he thought; _fear me, as well you should. You have no idea what I am._

It took a couple of minutes for the vial to fill with his blood; when it was full, the thug put the stopper in, then nodded to his fellows, and Red John was released. As the crowd moved back and the various inmates returned to whatever they had been doing, Red John remained where he was, maintaining a dignified silence.

Some guards came in, then - his cut needed to be bandaged. Red John coldly met the eyes of the idiot who thought it would be funny to sew the wound shut, without flinching as the needle pierced his skin again and again. When it was done and Red John had given no indication of being in pain, the guards stepped away from him quickly, fearful of something they didn't understand. That was the way it should be, and Red John smirked.

There was just one thing that puzzled him: What on Earth would his Old Friend need a vial of his blood for?

~o~

It was about two o'clock PM when Jane's phone finally rang.

"Hello?" he said.

"I got it."

"No trouble?" he asked.

"He didn't resist - didn't even _flinch_. He's some kind of freak, I'll tell you that."

Jane chuckled. "_I_ could have told _you_ that," he said. "Alright, I'll be right there." And he got up and left.

~o~

Jane was given the vial of blood and the razor blade as soon as he met with his ally.

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

"So are you going to tell me what this was all about?" the thug asked.

Jane looked around, then leaned in, lowered his voice, and explained what he was going to do.

When he was done, his accomplice blinked. "Why?" he asked.

"To spite him," Jane replied with a shrug.

His friend laughed, shaking his head. "You _really_ hate that son of a bitch," he commented.

"Can you blame me?" Jane asked.

"I guess not." He paused. "You want me to tell him what you're gonna do?"

"Oh, please do," Jane replied, smiling; he knew it would drive Red John _mad_. He chuckled, then gave his friend a pat on the arm. "Have a nice life," he told him.

"Yeah," the thug said as Jane stood and turned to go. "You too."

Jane glanced back and grinned at him, then left.

~o~

Red John was on the phone when Jane's friend returned to the common area, as he had been for a while. After he finished with his call, he approached Jane's accomplice and asked, "Did my Old Friend tell you what he wants my blood for?"

The thug smirked at him. "He says he's gonna buy you a tombstone and use your blood to paint your signature on it," he replied.

Red John's eyes widened. _The ultimate insult._

_If you think you can get away with that without retribution just because I'm to die in a few hours, you're sorely mistaken, o foolish old friend of mine,_ he thought.

~o~

Jane wasn't expecting another phone call, so when his cell phone rang a little after four o'clock, he checked the caller ID with confusion. When he didn't recognize it, he got curious, and he answered.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Old Friend."

Jane's eyes widened, and he leapt to his feet.

"Oh, don't you worry, I'm calling from jail," Red John said, and Jane could almost see him roll his eyes.

"What do you want?" Jane asked.

Red John sighed dramatically. "It's always the same question with you, isn't it?" he said mockingly. He paused, then said, "What I want, Old Friend, is to congratulate you. I am impressed with all you've managed to do."

"Thanks," Jane sad guardedly.

"In fact…I think I'll give you a reward of sorts - a gift, from me to you," Red John went on. "Of course, you'll have to get clearance for me to do it."

"What?" Jane asked, still suspicious.

"Kristina," Red John said, and Jane's heart leapt. "She's still in a psychiatric ward, I know. I can revive her, and I will, if you'll let me."

"Why would you do that?" Jane asked.

"As I said, you've earned it," Red John replied. "I give you my word, I will not make any attempts to escape, no one will attempt to retrieve or rescue me, and I will not do any physical harm to anyone, if you let me revive Kristina."

Jane thought for a minute, looking for a loophole. When he couldn't find one, he said, "Okay…I'll make some calls. I'll watch you do it, so don't even think of trying anything."

"I already told you, I won't," Red John said indignantly, and Jane couldn't tell how much of it was genuine indignation and how much was mocking.

With that, they both hung up.

Jane stared at his phone for a second. He wasn't stupid - Red John was planning _something_, he was fully aware of that. But…Kristina…

_Even if I have to pay some sort of price, I can't just leave her to waste away,_ he thought.

His guilt mounting and overriding his better judgement, he started making calls.

~o~

Lisbon was at HQ with everyone else when her phone rang. Confused, she picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hello, My Dear."

Lisbon's eyes widened. She took a step away from everyone else and lowered her voice. "You _are_ calling me from jail, aren't you?"

"But of course," Red John replied, sounding almost offended that she would suspect otherwise. "I was defeated fairly."

"So what do you want?" Lisbon asked.

Red John gave an exasperated sigh, and Lisbon could almost see him roll his eyes. "Can you people not come up with a more pertinent question?" he asked. "What I want, in this case, is to tell you that my Old Friend is making arrangements so that I can revive Kristina Frye."

Lisbon's gut twisted. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I was hoping you'd come along, lend him some moral support," Red John replied. "I've already given my word, there will be no escape attempts, and no physical harm will be done to anyone. He's going to be present for it, and I thought you might want to join him."

"Is this some elaborate scheme just to see me in person one more time?" Lisbon asked, almost disgustedly.

"If it is, would you refuse one who is about to die?" Red John asked in reply.

_You didn't answer my question._ "Fine, I'll come," Lisbon said, and she hung up before she could hear his response, already walking to the elevators. She had a bad feeling about this, and if nothing else, she wanted to be there when whatever Jane was going to regret happened - lend moral support, as Red John himself had said.

~o~

Jane and Lisbon were at the mental institution before Red John got there - Red John had to go through a more intricate system, after all.

"Jane, I don't think this is a good idea," Lisbon told Jane.

"You're probably right," Jane replied, "but I can't just leave Kristina here like this."

"Forget your guilt for a second and _think_ about this!" Lisbon hissed. "If Red John wants to wake her up or whatever with you watching, chances are, you're going to regret it!"

"What do _you_ think is going to happen?" Jane demanded.

Lisbon took a breath. "I don't know," she half-lied. "I just don't think you should trust Red John."

"I don't," Jane said, "but I _do_ trust him to keep to his word. Besides, like you said, this whole thing might just be so he can see you in person again." He hesitated, then added, "He really does seem to…love you." The words hurt on the way out, to a surprising degree - Jane wondered at it momentarily, then dismissed it.

Lisbon just shook her head. It was _possible_ that that was Red John's aim, she couldn't deny that, and Kristina was the perfect bargaining chip to that end, but…something about the whole affair bugged her. She had a hunch, but she didn't want to acknowledge it - her subconscious suppressed it, in the hopes that maybe, if she didn't even think it, it wouldn't be true.

Then Red John arrived.

He was escorted by two guards, but he wasn't chained - Jane had made sure of that. He smiled when he saw Lisbon.

"My Dear Little Saint," he greeted fondly, ignoring Jane for the time being. "I half-feared you wouldn't come."

"I don't trust you," Lisbon said as he approached her; "if you're going to do something to Jane, I'm going to be here for it."

Red John chuckled. "You're a lot smarter than he is," he told her. A second too late, Lisbon realized he wasn't going to stop walking, and the next thing she knew, his arms were around her and he was kissing her deeply.

Red John had kissed her many times, but there had always been a cloth mask between them; now, their mouthes pressed together, his lips against hers, with no barrier, no space…Part of her almost wanted to enjoy it. But she only hesitated a moment before pushing him away.

He took a step back and smiled. "Forgive me, My Dear," he said, "but I couldn't go without doing that without a mask between us, just once."

Lisbon glared at him. "The only reason I'm not going to do anything about it is because you're going to be dead in a few hours anyway," she told him.

Jane, meanwhile, felt sick. "Let's just get to why we're here," he said.

Red John smirked at him. "Jealous?" he taunted.

Jane was able to not react to that by reminding himself, as Lisbon had just done, that Red John would be dead in a few hours anyway - there was nothing to be gained from taking offense to anything he said. "You said you'd help Kristina," he said to Red John flatly.

"I said I'd _revive_ Kristina," Red John corrected; "whether or not that will be a positive thing in her eyes remains to be seen."

Jane blinked, but decided not to attribute any significance to this - surely, Red John was just messing with him. "Let's go," he said bluntly, and he turned and walked inside. Lisbon, Red John, and Red John's guards followed.

Jane abused his status to get a visiting room with only himself, Kristina, Lisbon, and Red John present - even the guards had to wait outside. When the doctors led Kristina in, Jane felt his heart ache. She looked exactly the same as she had the last time he'd seen her - vacant, empty, utterly dead to the world. They sat her down on a couch, then left her alone with the three distinguished individuals.

For a moment, all was still. Red John was looking at Kristina with an expression even Jane couldn't read.

"You stupid girl," Red John said at last, walking over to her, his tone indecipherable. "You stupid, _stupid_ girl." He sighed, then bent over to speak directly in her left ear. "Break! Fall! Shatter! Die!" He said each word sharply, then quickly blew into her ear. Then, before Jane or Lisbon could react, he reached into her ear, and when his fingers came away, he was holding what looked like a small lump of flesh.

He turned to Jane and smiled nastily. "Catch," he said, tossing the thing at him. Jane flinched, but the thing disintegrated in the air, and by the time it reached him, it was nothing but dust.

Red John stood, smirking expectantly at Jane and Lisbon.

"What was that?" Jane asked at last, when it became clear Red John had no intention of speaking first.

"_That_ was how the…ah…" He gestured to himself with both hands. "_spirits_, used to communicate with her." He smiled wickedly.

Lisbon's eyes widened; Jane's chest constricted.

"Wh…What…?" Jane tried to say.

Red John laughed. "Oh, you _really_ _are_ an _idiot_," he sneered. "You didn't _really_ think she had your gift, did you, Old Friend? Please. Mother Janice? Uncle Ed? _Roll_ _tide_?" He laughed again. "Even your gift couldn't provide a person with information like _that_."

"But…" Jane couldn't think, couldn't breathe. What did this mean? He didn't understand.

But Lisbon did.

"She's Angel," she said softly.

Red John and Jane turned to her, and she shifted her gaze from Kristina to Red John. "Isn't she?" she half-asked him.

Red John chuckled. "Yes," he hissed evilly. "My Sweet Innocent Angel…Kristina Frye." He smirked at Jane. "The woman you thought I abducted was on my side all along."

Jane didn't want to believe it, and it _couldn't_ be true…but against his will, his mind grabbed onto inconsistency after inconsistency: How she had known that the victim of the Red John copycats had died near water; the blatant way she had insulted Red John in the media; her complete lack of fear and confidence that Red John wouldn't come after her; her declaration that Red John had 'punished' Jane for 'lying' about him, and that he might do as she said; Red John's own remark about how fond of Jane she was 'despite their differences'; how she hadn't been killed, even injured, though Red John had abducted her; the amusement in her eyes as she had told him that he credited her with far too much cunning; her excessive laughter when he told her he'd been to jail; the deception he saw every time she spoke to him, which he had attributed to her lying about being psychic, as he himself had done in his time; her description of a peaceful and happy afterlife; how she hadn't even recognized the name 'Red John'…and something else…something his mind still kept hidden from him, to protect him from an even darker secret…

"Let me tell you two a story," Red John said after a minute. "It will make things clearer to both of you."

Jane and Lisbon said nothing, both speechless for different reasons.

"Once upon a time," Red John began mockingly, "there was a girl who was born to a very poor family. Both of her parents had to work two jobs to pay the bills when they only had each other, and when the girl's mother died during childbirth, it was only a few years before she and her father were out on the streets." He smiled. "The girl's father did everything he could for her while he was alive. Sadly, life in the streets of downtown San Francisco is _very_ dangerous, and he was killed by a random thug when the girl was twelve. So she lived alone, not a penny to her name. The only thing she had besides the clothes on her back was a rather large cloth doll her mother had bought for her before she was born."

_The doll._

"That doll was her treasure," Red John told them, "her only comfort in a cold, empty world, a world where she had to beg for pennies from complete strangers, just so she could buy clothes that fit her as she went through puberty. She was lucky if she managed to have enough to eat that counted collectively as one meal over the course of an entire week, and more often than not, she went a whole day without food. She was a sweet girl, and would never steal, so she had less than nothing. She was so malnourished that her body matured too slowly, and when she first started bleeding when she was fifteen, she had no idea what to do; no one had ever told her anything about growing up.

"The poor girl lived like this until she was eighteen. She cried, day and night, thinking she would never have a chance at life, wishing she had never been born." He chuckled, and both Jane and Lisbon knew where this was going. "Then, one day, a certain someone just happened to pass her by as he was walking down the street, and when he saw her, he knew, right away, what her life was like. So he reached out his hand to her and told her to come with him. Having nothing to lose, she obeyed." Red John smiled mockingly. "This man took her under his wing and raised her up out of nothing, as though she was his own daughter," he told them. "He put everything she needed first, everything she wanted second, and everything else in his life third, or so it seemed to her. He gave her what she had thought she would never have: a life. What was more, he was her best friend. He was there for her when she needed him for _anything_, and he was always happy to take time out of his day just to talk to her. He also educated her personally. He was a _very_ brilliant and intelligent person, after all, and the girl was rather bright herself; after only two years, she was just as well-educated as she would have been had she gone through the entire public school system. The man was, as you know, very well-connected as well, so it was easy for him to forge documents of her having gone to school - no one would ever be any the wiser to the fact that she didn't _really_ have a high-school diploma."

_Red John finds people who have nothing and gives them everything._

"When she was twenty, it was time for her to decide what she wanted to do with her life," Red John continued. "But she didn't know. The whole world was still so new to her that she had no idea what she wanted to be. The man told her that that was perfectly understandable, and that she could stay with him as long as she needed to. After all he'd already done for her, the fact that he was willing to continue to support her was almost too much for her to bear. She thought she would _never_ be able to repay him." Red John's voice dripped with mockery.

He laughed. Jane felt sick, and even Lisbon was hardly able to breathe.

"One day, about two months after she had reached the point where she had everything she needed to make it on her own, he came home with a very serious look on his face," Red John went on. "She knew right away that something was wrong, because he had never worn anything but a smile in her presence. For a moment she was fearful, afraid that she had done something wrong." Red John chuckled. "The man knew this, and immediately assured her that it had nothing to do with her…well, not _really_. He asked her to sit down, and he sat down with her. Then, he sighed, so sadly that all the girl wanted was to be able to help him.

"That was the day he told her he had a…_terrible_ secret."

He laughed, the expressions on Jane and Lisbon's faces truly priceless to him. He even found he was able to enjoy Lisbon's shock - after all, it wasn't easy to shock her anymore.

"I told her very gently," Red John went on after a minute. "I said to her, 'You've been like a daughter to me, the daughter I never had, and I've tried my best to make you happy.' She immediately told me I had, and I said, 'I know, but I can't go on like this, making you think I'm just…'" Red John laughed. "'…just a good samaritan,'" he finished nastily.

"She was confused, but I didn't give her time to ask any questions before I said, 'I have a terrible secret, one I can hardly bear. I've told others, but this burden is just so horrible that I need to share it with as many people as I can, just to go on.'" He repeated his own words mockingly, evil laughter spilling into his voice. "'Can I trust you to keep it a secret, no matter what it may be?' I asked her _desperately_; and she said, 'Yes, of course!' It was the least she could do for me, she thought, after I had given her _everything_." He chuckled. "So I asked her, 'Have you heard of the serial killer called Red John?' I knew she had - I'd made sure of it - but I pretended to be unaware. She told me she had, and I said to her, 'What if I told you that that was me? That I am Red John?' 'I wouldn't believe you,' she answered right away." Red John repeated her words in a mocking, childlike tone. "'You are the kindest, gentlest man in the world. You would never hurt anyone!' And to her, I seemed to grow sad at this, as though her words brought me pain, and it slowly started to dawn on her what my horrible secret was, even before I said, 'I am he. I am Red John.'" Red John laughed at the memory

"But first and foremost to her, in her mind, I was her _savior_, so she was eager to believe any explanation I gave her, just like all the others," he went on at last. "I told her about my demon - you know the story." He paused, taking a moment to reflect. "It _never_ ceases to amaze me, no matter how many times I managed to pull it off, that _anyone_ could _possibly_ be naïve enough to buy something as ridiculous as the story I give them, but like all the others, she believed it - believed that I would save the world someday."

"Then, I told her to come with me, just as I had the day I met her, and brought her to a gathering of all my friends, one of the several I hold every week." Lisbon nodded, recalling what others had told her about this event. "They welcomed her, as always, but she was the youngest friend who ever joined my network, and at first, she was very timid and shy.

His amusement vanished. "Then, two days after she joined my inner circle, you first heard my name, Old Friend," he said. "Less than three days after she joined me, you were a part of the hunt." He paused, struggling with a wave of fury.

Lisbon and Jane couldn't respond, couldn't ask him to stop, even though they knew what was coming.

"I told my friends about this, and we all laughed about it together - but none so much as she," he went on, malice rising in his voice. "After all, the police must _really_ have been desperate, if they would accept help from someone like _you_. All my friends know that there's no such thing as psychics, Old Friend, so we all laughed with the knowledge that you were an arrogant, greedy fraud." His expression darkened, his voice growing harsh with wrath. "But then…you had the _gall_…to _slander_ me in the media," he snarled through gritted teeth. "All my friends saw you do it, and that night, the phone lines across the state were jammed as they all called one another, needing someone to vent to; how _dare_ you say those things about me?! What gave you the _nerve_ to think you could talk about me like that - at _all_, never mind on television?!"

"Eventually, they all managed to gather at our usual meeting place. I was unaware of this, as I was…handling things my own way." He gave a dark, humorless laugh as he remembered how he had killed Jane's wife and daughter. "But they all gathered that night," Red John went on, "and they all raged to one another at just how stupid and arrogant you were, and at what an outrage you had committed. I didn't find this out until a few weeks later, but apparently no one was angrier than she. I'm told she raged around like a firestorm, roaring with all her might the fury that filled her." Red John chuckled. "I never saw that side of her, and I must say, I still can't quite picture it. Apparently her wrath was frightening, it was so intense.

"Then morning came, and a few of my friends decided to see what news there was to be had from the previous night. I never had to tell them what I did; they knew before I even knew they were all together. I'm amazed I couldn't hear the cheer that erupted from that place, as everyone found out what I had done - many of my friends said that it must have been audible for miles, it was so loud and heartfelt." Red John chuckled as Lisbon fought the urge to gag (Jane was far beyond that). "Many, _many_ people were _very_ happy to find out that your wife and child had been brutally murdered," Red John told Jane softly, tauntingly.

"And then you had your breakdown," he went on, his voice mocking once more. "Many of my friends hoped you would just give in…kick the bucket…" He laughed darkly. "I had to explain to them that that _wasn't_ the best outcome - that if you _died_, you couldn't _suffer_…" Another chuckle. "You finally pulled yourself together," he continued. "And then you did something that surprised all of us, myself included: You quit the psychic business, right then and there."

Lisbon's breath started coming a bit easier; the worst of the story was over now, at least, or so she thought.

"Most of my friends were pleased by this, as your decision only made it easier for me to torment you," Red John went on. "But _she_ couldn't rejoice with the rest of them, because something was bothering her: your clients." He smirked. "She felt _bad_ for all those people you were leaving behind," he told Jane, "and as you'd been recommended to so many…she just thought it was _awful_, how all of those poor people you could have given inner peace were going to have to go on carrying the burdens your lies lifted off of so many shoulders." Red John chuckled wickedly.

"And that's when she decided what she wanted to do with her life," he told them at last: "She wanted to be _you_."

Lisbon felt like she had been punched in the gut; Jane's guts had already turned inside out inside of him.

"She wanted to make people happy and give them hope and inner peace." He chuckled. "That was how she earned the nickname, 'My Sweet Innocent Angel', though I will admit that she quickly became anything but. She didn't have your gift, Old Friend, so she couldn't replace you on her own; but she had _me_, and I can get almost any information there is to be had about anyone. So, I gave her what she wanted. Thus, Kristina the psychic.

"That's the story, of My Sweet Innocent Angel…Kristina Frye." He smirked at Lisbon. "You always wondered, My Dear," he taunted; "now you know."

Several minutes passed in silence, as Jane and Lisbon struggled to come to terms with all of this. Lisbon knew he was telling the truth, and she berated herself silently for not thinking of it - it was _so_ _obvious_ now that it had been spelled out, and she should have guessed it!

Jane, on the other hand, tried to tell himself that Red John was lying. Most of the story might be true enough, but it wasn't about _Kristina_ - it couldn't be!

Wait a minute…it _couldn't_ be…

"You're lying," Jane said. "Kristina _can't_ be one of your friends."

"Why?" Red John asked mockingly. "Because you dated her?"

"Yes," Jane replied.

Red John threw his head back and laughed, hard. Lisbon had a feeling she knew what was coming, but there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say now that would make it hurt Jane any less.

At last, Red John spoke.

"Did it not strike you as an odd coincidence that, of all psychics, you just _happened_ to keep running into _her_?" he sneered. "Did it not seem strange that she kept insisting she was psychic, when both you and she knew she wasn't? She _told_ you you credited her with far too much cunning; did you not listen? And did she not seem just a little _too_ friendly to you, all things considered? Did she not seem just a little _too_ perfect?"

"What are you saying?" Jane asked.

"I'm saying you're an idiot, and that _I_ _sent_ _her_ _to_ _seduce_ _you_, _you_ _moron_!" Red John jeered.

Lisbon closed her eyes. Yes, it was as bad as she had thought. She wished there was something she could say to help Jane, but there wasn't, and Red John was far from done.

"Wh…_Why_?" Jane asked, confused.

Red John shrugged. "Mainly to take a rain check on you," he replied, "see how badly you were still hurting. I will say this: I was _very_ disappointed in you. I had thought she and I would have to work you for at least a few _days_ before you would even _consider_ dating her - you always seem so dedicated to your family, after all - but no, two cases in total and you ask her out. We were _all_ disappointed in you, you disgusting hypocrite."

Jane's mouth was open, but he couldn't speak.

"Of course, you weren't _completely_ hopeless," Red John went on; "before your meals even came, you excused yourself - you felt unwell and needed a minute. I saw the way you held your wedding ring, the look on your face as you walked out of the bathroom to tell her that you couldn't do it…but just before you could end things, a couple of idiots decided they wanted to make a movie about me." To Lisbon's surprise, Red John chuckled. "I didn't expect that, I'll confess that much, but _what_ _a_ _stroke_ _of_ _luck_ _for us_! _Just_ in time to save my plans, someone imitated me and boasted to the world about it. That's why I let them live for so long."

"There was more to seducing Jane than that, though," Lisbon said. "Wasn't there?"

Red John smiled at her. "You really are the brains in all this," he said. "Yes…seducing my Old Friend was only stage one of the plan. Stage two was salvaged by Dillon and Ruth." He turned to Jane. "And it was: Make you look in the mirror," he hissed.

Jane blinked.

"Did you _really_ not find it a bit convenient that Kristina, who was in no way a part of my case, and who _happened_ to have just been out on a date with _you_, just _happened_ to get a TV interview about me, and that the screen facing you in the restaurant you and your team just _happened_ to be meeting at just _happened_ to be playing that channel, and that she just _happened_ to make _your_ mistake, _immediately_ after your attention centered on her?" Red John laughed. "I know you believe in coincidences, Old Friend, but really now, didn't you think that was a _bit_ much?"

Jane was shaking now. Now that it was laid out like this…yes, it _was_ strange. How had he missed it?

_Because you don't think straight when Red John's part of the picture,_ said a voice at the back of his mind. And it was true, he knew it was.

Red John smirked. "You should have seen the look on your face," he taunted. "And the way you raged at her afterwards - 'What the hell are you thinking?! Don't you know who you're dealing with?!'" Red John's voice was cruelly mocking, and he was half laughing as he spoke. "She told you she did, and you said, 'No, you don't, _clearly_ you don't!'" Red John stopped to laugh. "That whole conversation was _priceless_," he managed through his hysterics; "it wasn't easy for her to keep a straight face _during_ that conversation, Old Friend, but when I met her at her home later and replayed it for her, she and I both laughed _so_ _hard_…I wish I could describe in words just _how_ _much_ we _laughed_ at you behind your back…!" He couldn't keep talking then; he was practically doubled over with laughter. The look on Jane's face just then probably didn't help, either.

"Why did you kill Jacqueline, if Kristina only said what you told her to say?" Lisbon asked for Jane, who couldn't speak.

Red John took a moment to collect himself, then answered, "Well, I couldn't let the statement stand _publicly_ - if I didn't react at all to what she said, what would people think of me? They might think she was even the tiniest bit right! I couldn't let my image be soiled like that, My Dear; surely you of all people understand."

Lisbon nodded; she had only asked for Jane's sake.

"For the record, I didn't tell her that part of my plan," Red John told them; "the fear and shock you saw in her eyes when she heard what I had done was _very_ real. I didn't want to have to burden her with the knowledge that she was getting someone killed beforehand. She called me immediately after you two left, asking for an explanation, and I told her the truth."

"So what happened?" Lisbon asked.

Red John chuckled. "_You_ know what happened, My Dear," he said; "the Angel Plague happened. That's what we named it, because she was the first to suffer from it: When someone I sent to seduce someone else - for whatever purpose - ends up genuinely falling for the person I sent them to seduce. Craig was the second victim of this."

"So she started to care for Jane?" Lisbon asked.

Red John sighed, then turned to Jane. "When you returned to her that night, Old Friend," he said, "you were broken. Your facade of confidence, of carefreeness, of being _at_ _all_ okay, was gone, leaving nothing but who you really are deep down - the depths of your soul, laid bare for the world to see…and in that state, you told Kristina that you would do whatever you had to to protect her." Red John tilted his head. "And she just thought that was the sweetest thing she'd ever heard," he said, his tone indecipherable even for Jane.

There was silence for a minute.

"Why do you think she demanded that you go away as soon as you said that, Old Friend?" Red John asked. "Did you think you had offended her? No…she sent you away because all of a sudden, she wanted to stop causing you pain. She wanted to tell you the truth, the _whole_ truth - that I had sent her, that it was all a trick, possibly even my real name, everything you would need to catch me! She told me it took every amount of self-control she had to not throw herself at your feet and weep, tell you _everything_ and _beg_ for your forgiveness." Red John shook his head disgustedly. "Stupid girl," he spat.

"So she called you as soon as Jane left…"

"…in a panic, and told me this, yes," Red John finished for Lisbon. "She told me I had to 'pull the plug', that she needed out, didn't trust herself to even _speak_ with my Old Friend anymore. I told her to calmly, subtly gather her things, wait until morning, then ask to take a nap so she would be left alone; at that point, I would be outside her window, on the Nightrider, and she could simply take her things and jump out, and I would take her away." Red John chuckled. "I didn't abduct her, Old Friend, and she wasn't running from me," he told him; "she was running from _you_."

Jane's eyes were wide.

"Oh, and you were _so_ _scared_ for her," Red John taunted. "You were _so_ _very_ _worried_, so fearful for her life…" He chuckled. "Sweet, but dumb - very, _very_ dumb."

Then he sighed.

"The hope was that, if she just spent time away from you, her feelings for you would fade," he told Jane. "Unfortunately, things didn't work out that way - if anything, she got worse. She always begged me to tell her how you were doing, and, well, the truth was, you were falling apart. She knew that being away from you caused you pain, that not knowing that she was safe or where she was was torture to you…and she didn't want to be an instrument of your torture." He shook his head. "She _begged_ me to kill her - she figured that her guilt would end, you would be devastated, I would get to hurt you, and she wouldn't be a burden to me anymore, so we'd all win - but I don't hurt my friends. So, at last, we had to come up with a plan B."

"B for brainwashing," Lisbon said.

Red John rolled his eyes. "She's a in _trance_," he said exasperatedly; "a drug-aided trance, which only I can call her out of*…which brings us to why we're here today." He smiled nastily. "I'm going to die in a few hours, and _you_, Old Friend, are responsible," he said; "what's more, you're a big celebrity hero for it, and everyone knows I'm a monster, though all my friends will deny it. All of my friends are in danger, too - the general public would burn any of them at the stake if they revealed themselves. How do you think she'll feel, awakening to this reality? How do you think she'll react?" He laughed. "I think it's safe to say that at the very least, she'll be cured of her affection for you," he sneered.

All was silent for a moment. Then, Lisbon managed to find her voice.

"I hate you," she told Red John.

Red John smiled. "I know you do," he replied fondly, "and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Thus rendering Lisbon as frozen as Jane, Red John turned around, crouched down in front of Kristina, and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "Return, My Sweet," he said as he did so.

Kristina blinked a few times in rapid succession, her eyes clearing and focusing. "Mmmf," she groaned, as though waking from a deep sleep, rubbing her eyes with her hands.

"Welcome back, My Sweet Innocent Angel," Red John said.

Kristina opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was Red John's face. At once, her expression lit up.

"RJ!" she exclaimed joyfully, lunging forward to hug him. "RJ, I'm so glad to see you! You're finally here!"

Red John hugged her back. "Yes, I'm here," he said, and even to Jane and Lisbon, he sounded sad and remorseful.

Kristina sat back, looking at Red John. "What's wrong, RJ?" she asked. "You've completed your great work, haven't you?"

Red John sighed heavily. "No," he told Kristina, "nor will I ever."

"But…" Kristina's face twisted with confusion.

"I lost, My Sweet," Red John told her. "We played one too many games…and I have been defeated. I die at midnight tonight."

"What? But how…Who…?" Kristina looked up, and only then did she see Jane and Lisbon standing behind Red John.

Her eyes widened. "No," she breathed.

"I'm afraid so, My Sweet," Red John said, standing. "But I couldn't leave you here to waste away - you have a life to live. So I brought you back."

Kristina got to her feet. "No!" she cried, tears in her eyes. "RJ, you can't let them do this-!" She shouldered past him to approach Jane and Lisbon. "You don't understand what you're doing!" she exclaimed at them. "Patrick, I'm sorry, but you don't understand, he's not-!"

"They know the story, My Sweet," Red John said, walking over and placing a hand on her shoulder. "They do not believe me."

She turned to him, her eyes wide with distress and confusion.

"A great deal has happened since you went under," Red John told her; "more than I have time to tell. Dove will explain everything to you - she's in charge now, and I trust her to lead you all as I would, great work and murders notwithstanding."

"RJ, you…you can't…you can't die," Kristina whimpered, crying.

"There, there," Red John said, and he hugged her. She hugged back tightly, beginning to sob now. "It cannot be helped. I was defeated fairly; again, Dove will explain." He ran a hand up and down her back consolingly, his tone sad and gentle…but his eyes danced with merriment at the sight of Jane and Lisbon's faces, and he smirked at them, almost laughing.

Jane had never felt so betrayed, or so stupid, as he did then. Everything he had thought he knew about Kristina, everything he had thought they might have - all of it was lies, all of it orchestrated by Red John to hurt him. This was worse - _so_ much worse - than Lisbon's betrayal, and not even the knowledge that Red John would be dead soon helped him now. His head spun, his breath came hard, and he felt very, _very_ sick.

Lisbon looked at Jane, and she saw all of this in his face. He looked crumpled, destroyed, not unlike the way Red John had looked earlier that day in the face of Jane's triumph. _I knew something like this would happen,_ she thought, _and that's why I came. But is there anything I can do…?_

Suddenly, she thought of something. She walked to the door and knocked on it. "Guards!" she called.

The two police escorts came in.

"Get him out of here," she told them, gesturing to Red John, "and take Jane with you. I want to be alone with Kristina for a minute."

They hesitated - after all, she wasn't Patrick Jane - but she _was_ still a Senior Agent, and at last, they complied. Kristina wept as Red John was led away, and Lisbon had to physically hold her back from running after him. Jane left with them much more readily than Lisbon had anticipated, and she had to call after him, "Jane! Wait outside for me!"

He raised a hand to show he had heard, and then Lisbon and Kristina were alone.

"Kristina," she murmured.

Kristina turned to her. "You can't do this," she whispered tearfully.

"I know what he told you," Lisbon told her. "I know about the symbiotic-relationship-with-a-demon crap."

"It's not crap!" Kristina practically shouted.

"Yes it is," Lisbon said firmly, "and _he's_ the one who told me so."

"Who?" Kristina asked, her voice shaking.

"Red John," Lisbon replied. "He told me himself, it's all nonsense - he laughs at you, _all_ of you, behind your backs for believing him. Yes, I know about his network of friends, and I know about his pets and zombies, too," she added, seeing the look on Kristina's face. "And what's more, I know Red John, a _lot_ more than I wish I did." Her expression hardened. "I have something to show you," she told Kristina, and before Kristina could respond, she took off her jacket.

Quickly, Lisbon stripped down to her undergarments, revealing the numerous keloid scars that covered her body.

"You see these?" she asked Kristina. "He gave them to me. He tortured me for three weeks - I'm sure Dove will explain in more detail. But, Kristina, he didn't just cut me; he told me things, things about himself that even _I_ didn't want to believe. But they were true. And do you know what he told me?"

She pulled her clothes back on as Kristina stared at her in shock.

"He told me," Lisbon said, when she was fully dressed again, "that he is a monster, and that he is _proud_ of it. He _loves_ torturing and killing, it's _fun_ for him. There is no good side, no Jekyll/Hyde human-demon relationship thing, there is only Red John, and he is more evil than you can imagine."

Kristina shook her head. "No…" she said softly. "He…he's not evil…His demon was the one who said those things to you, it wasn't him."

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Kristina, he thinks you and all of his friends are stupid for believing his demon thing, and he has literally laughed at you all, when you aren't there to hear him. To him, you are gullible, somewhat-amusing, very useful tools."

"You're wrong," Kristina said, her voice coming more strongly now.

Lisbon sighed. "Kristina, I know what he did for you," she told her; "I know you had nothing and he gave you everything, that he was kind and supportive and stuff, but I am telling you, all of that was so that you would be unshakably loyal to him, and _not_ because he gives a damn about you, or ever has."

"RJ treats us like family," Kristina said.

"I know he does," Lisbon said; "I've seen, and I've heard, and even I have to admit, the act is convincing…but I know what he really is…and…" She bit her lip. "Kristina…after everything you've put Jane through…if you really care about him, at least _try_ to listen to me."

Kristina swallowed hard. "I…I…" She hesitated, and Lisbon allowed herself to feel a tiny spark of hope. But then Kristina shook her head and said, "RJ is a good man. He's given me everything. I would die for him. And he did so much to help me when I started caring about…about Patrick…" Her voice did catch at this, but she went on, "It would have been so easy for him to just kill me - I _wanted_ him to, by the end, even _begged_ him to - but he went out of his way to make sure no one was hurt permanently. It was a lot of work for him, and a huge drain on resources, but he did it for me, and he would do the same for any of us. So I…I'm sorry, for what happened to you, but…I won't turn on RJ. Not ever."

Lisbon sighed but nodded; she'd expected as much. Still, it had been worth trying. "Come with me, then," she said, heading for the door; "we'll take you home."

Kristina followed.

~o~

Red John was sent back to jail on his own with his two guards and a driver. Nothing else of note happened to him the rest of his life.

Lisbon rode with Jane back to the place where Red John was going to be executed, to spend the rest of the wait with him. He needed the company, the 'moral support', just as Red John had said.

Jane was very quiet. He had thought that, hours before death, there was nothing Red John could do to hurt him, but he had been wrong, _so_ wrong…and Kristina…He had trusted her, cared for her, _cried_ for her! Oh, he must have looked _so_ stupid to her; he could imagine, now, just how much she had laughed at him. He thought back on the things he'd said to her in agony, his new viewpoint changing _everything_…Yes, he had been very, _very_ stupid. Maybe he _was_ just a complete and utter moron with a gift, after all.

And Kristina herself was driven away by a single cop, who had orders to take her back to her house. Halfway there, however, another car crashed into his from the side, placed just right to kill him but not badly injure Kristina. Kristina knew what was happening, even though she hadn't been told, and she quickly got in the car with the fellow Friend of Red John who had come to retrieve her. It would be several years before anyone ever saw her again.

~o~

"You're not stupid, you know."

Jane was sitting outside the building, his back against the wall. Lisbon was sitting beside him. He turned to her.

"What makes you say that?" he asked.

"He knew you wouldn't see it," she said. "I'm guessing you saw in her eyes that she was lying most of the time she talked to you, but you thought it was the obvious lie - the lie that she was psychic, when you know there's no such thing. Right?"

Jane closed his eyes and nodded.

"That's what he does," Lisbon said. "She had him whispering in her ear the whole time - she had a comeback for everything you might have said…and he knows you, he made a _point_ of knowing you." She put her hand over his. "But you're not a moron," she told him. "There's no shame in being tricked by Red John - literally hundreds of people have built their lives around some stupid Jekyll/Hyde story he's told them."

"Would _you_ have fallen for it?" Jane asked her. "If you had my…my gift?"

"Probably," Lisbon replied. "She knew what to say, when to say it, and _how_ to say it; you had no reason to distrust her apart from not believing she was psychic."

"I should have thought there was something weird about that interview," Jane said. "How did I not see it? Not only did she make my mistake, she had just been out with me - I was on her mind, or should have been! It's so obvious now…How else could she have said those things, except on purpose?"

"You know what Red John does to you," Lisbon said calmly, "especially when you think of your family. You saw _yourself_ on the TV that night, and it was all you could think of, just like he knew you would. It's okay."

Jane shook his head. "Maybe I'm not smart enough to join the BAU," he said in a hollow voice. "Maybe I _am_ stupid, and my gift just lets me _pretend_ I'm not. What if we're chasing some killer and I'm too stupid to see something important-?"

"Jane," Lisbon said firmly.

He looked at her.

"You're not stupid," she told him, "and you're _certainly_ not too stupid to be in the BAU. I told you before, I'll say it again: They would be lucky to have you. _Will_ be. There's…no telling how much good you'll be able to do in the world by joining them."

"I'm not sure I'm going to, though," Jane said.

"Well, you should," Lisbon forced herself to say. "There's no reason for you not to."

"Not even you?" Jane asked.

Lisbon blinked, recognizing this conversation - she'd just had it with Charlotte the previous day.

"Jane," she said at last, "you've been a good friend to me, and…I would miss you if you left. But…I have my sister back in my life, now, and we're already working out ways to never get separated again, in spite of our jobs. I'll have a friend. I won't be alone. So…there's no reason for you not to go."

Jane said nothing.

"You should go," Lisbon repeated after a minute.

Jane made an uncommitted noise, but nothing more, and they sat together in silence until Charlotte, her camera crew, and the other people eager to see the execution started to gather.

* * *

***See my fanfic "The Angel Plague" for more on this.**


	26. Chapter 24

In the final hours leading up to Red John's death, Charlotte and Patrick Jane kept up a running commentary for the eagerly-waiting public on live TV. Apart from Lisbon, the rest of the team watched from HQ until after dark.

"Mr. Jane, you've fought long and hard for this night," Charlotte was saying; "how excited are you that Red John will _finally_ be gone?"

Jane chuckled. "Okay, now you're just asking questions to stall for time," he teased. "To answer your question, I could not be more excited. Red John…means nothing but pain for others, and he deserves this. Actually, he deserves a much less humane death, but we're already pushing the boundaries as it is."

Jane and Charlotte both laughed.

"Anyway, this will be a night to celebrate," Jane went on after a minute. "I am going to watch him die and enjoy every moment of it, and I hope you all do, too - you should!" he added to the cameras.

Almost everyone watching cheered and applauded…everyone but Van Pelt, who grabbed the remote and turned the TV off.

Everyone looked at each other hesitantly, but Van Pelt just looked straight forward, her expression cold.

"I, uh, I guess we might as well go now," Rigsby said. "It won't be long."

The others agreed and started to go, but Van Pelt didn't rise. Rigsby, noticing this, stopped and turned back.

"Grace?" he asked. "Are you coming?"

"No," she said in an odd tone of voice.

"Don't you want to see this?" Rigsby asked, surprised. "The son of a bitch was gonna kill you!"

"I'll…watch from here," Van Pelt said.

"Uh…okay," Rigsby said. "You, uh…do that. I'm going."

"Have fun," she said, still in that odd tone of voice.

"I will," Rigsby said slowly, and he turned to go.

"Is he right?"

Rigsby turned around. "What?"

Van Pelt had turned, her expressionless mask falling away to reveal a strange sort of fear. "He said that, if we enjoy watching him die, we're not different from him," she said. "Is he right?"

"Grace, he only said that to try and save his ass," Rigsby said.

"But…" Van Pelt hesitated. "I feel like…he wasn't lying, not per se. And…what _does_ make it different, anyway? What makes enjoying his death so different from…what he wanted to do to me?"

Rigsby sighed and walked back over to her.

"Red John enjoys killing people because…well, he's like that," he told Van Pelt. "We aren't. It…It's not so much that we're enjoying a person dying, the way he does - it's more the fact that it means that many, many other people _won't_ die or get hurt. We're putting a stop to someone who won't stop hurting people as long as he's breathing. Does that make sense?"

"I guess," Van Pelt said slowly.

"Alright," Rigsby said. "Well, I'm gonna go. If you change your mind, your seat's reserved."

"Thanks," Van Pelt said halfheartedly.

Rigsby nodded, then left. Van Pelt turned back to the TV and turned it on again.

"…night is a night when good will triumph over evil," Jane was saying; "I know it sounds cliché but it's true. Red John is a monster - as long as he's on this Earth, it can only mean bad things. Now he'll be gone, for good, and we'll all be safer and happier for it - we can rest a bit easier now, knowing that he won't be able to hurt any of us ever again."

~o~

The doors opened half an hour before midnight. The general public technically weren't allowed in, but Charlotte was, so most people who didn't have clearance didn't even try…though the ones that did weren't stopped. Jane and Lisbon sat in the front row, while the rest of the team and the BAU sat somewhere behind. Charlotte was set up at the very back of the room.

Minutes passed in tense silence. Then, right before things were to get underway, a straggler came in.

Van Pelt sat down next to Rigsby without a word. He gave her a quick smile but likewise said nothing.

And then, it was time.

"Red John will now be allowed his final words," an official said, and the curtain parted.

Red John was already strapped down and hooked up, though he still somehow managed to look dignified. Immediately, his eyes focused on Lisbon.

"Ah, My Dear Little Saint Teresa, you came," Red John said, his tone not at all that of a person about to die. "Good. I'm glad I get to die seeing your face." He chuckled. "My Dear, I know it exasperates you, but I really can't die without saying it just one more time: I love you, My Dear Little Saint."

Lisbon smirked. "I love you, too," she said, "now go to hell."

Red John smiled. "It would appear that I am about to," he said.

"Yes, it would," Lisbon said mockingly; "and I don't suppose there's _any_ chance of you going quietly?"

"Come now, My Dear, surely you know me better than _that_," Red John replied with a mocking smile.

She rolled her eyes. "Sadly, I do," she said.

He chuckled again, then sighed, still smiling, and looked at the cameras. "My friends," he said, "to you, I have this to say." He paused, probably for effect. "Do not blame yourselves for this," he said with authority. "There is nothing any of you could have done to prevent this. This is _my_ fault, and mine alone." He paused, turning his eyes on Jane. "I underestimated my Old Friend. That is my mistake, and this is the price I shall pay." He turned back to the cameras. "Dove is in charge now," he declared; "I trust her to lead you all as I would…and if there is one thing I would ask you to do, as my dying wish, it is this: live your lives. Live them as you would regardless of me. Do not act out, _do_ _not_ _reveal_ _yourselves_. Live your lives - the lives _I_ gave you - and live them happily…live them for me, in my stead." He paused again. "As for the rest of you people watching…" He smiled. "Well, what can I say?"

"I'm sure you've thought of something," Lisbon muttered.

Red John chuckled, turning his eyes on her. "Indeed I have, My Dear Little Saint," he said mockingly. He looked back into the cameras. "Sometimes, when a person finds him- or herself in this position, they want to talk about what they've done, and whether or not they _regret_ it." He smiled evilly. "Now, you all know my one _great_ regret, the one thing for which I feel _true_ remorse…but I have thought a great deal over the course of the past few hours, having had little else to do, and it occurred to me that I will die with not one regret, but two. This second regret is not something for which I feel _remorse_, per se, but it is a regret, nonetheless." His eyes found Van Pelt, and his evil smile turned predatory. "Grace, My Treasure…My Treasured Frightened Rabbit," he hissed. "I regret that I never got to have _you_." He laughed when he saw her flinch. "Oh, I'm _so_ glad you came," he went on nastily. "The fear in your eyes…It's so beautiful, and so comforting right now…" He sighed, then added, "But to be fair, you've nothing to fear. My friends will not come after you - or, at least, I _hope_ they won't. No…If _I_ can't have the pleasure of killing you myself, I _certainly_ hope none of _them_ will."

He sighed again, wistfully this time. "Now, I've been thinking a _great_ _deal_ lately," he went on, "and shortly after my second regret occurred to me, I realized that _all_ of my regrets in life, I owe to _one_ person." His eyes turned on Jane with a sort of finality. "Therefore," he said, "my _final_ words, Old Friend, are for you."

"Fair enough," Jane said, his tone unreadable.

Red John smiled amusedly. "Well," he said, "here we are. I am about to die, and you are going to watch, knowing that it was _you_ who made this happen. What's more, you will suffer no punishment for this. On the contrary, everyone is on your side now - you're a hero, with a bright future ahead of you!" His mocking smile widened. "Congratulations. Victory is yours."

"Yes, it is," Jane said softly.

Red John laughed. "Fool!" he hissed. "Do you really believe that?"

Jane blinked. "Well, why shouldn't I?" he asked, shrugging.

Red John laughed again. "Look around you, Old Friend!" he sneered. "Look at who _isn't_ here to celebrate this 'victory' with you!" His mocking grin was triumphant. "Where is your lovely wife?" he asked, his voice dripping with mockery. "Where is your sweet little girl?" He paused for effect, and Jane's face took on the expression it always did when he thought of what Red John had done to his family: a mixture of sadness, pain, guilt, and anger.

He said nothing.

"That's right," Red John went on at last; "they're both in boxes, six feet underground in a cemetery, slowly rotting back into _dirt_…and unless I'm _very_ _much_ mistaken, once I'm dead, _they'll_ _still_ _be_ _there_." He laughed. "My death changes _nothing_! They're still dead, Old Friend, and they always will be! I _still_ took _everything_ from you! _I_ _still_ _won_!" He laughed again. "So I hope you enjoy this, o foolish old friend of mine," he finished, "because once it's over, you're going to go back to being the same sorry, miserable sadsack you were one week ago, and one _month_ ago, and one _year_ ago, and one _decade_ ago…and I can rest in peace, knowing that."

For a long minute, there was silence, save for the seconds that ticked by, signaling the approaching end of the monster strapped to the table. Jane looked up at the clock, and when there were about forty-five seconds left until midnight, he stood, without saying a word, and walked up to the very front of the room, to stand right in front of the glass. His face was a mask.

"What are you doing?" Red John asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowing.

Jane lifted his left hand, displaying his wedding ring. Then, he took hold of it in the fingers of his right hand…and twisted it off. It came off easily - much more easily than even he had expected. He took hold of it with the thumb and first finger of his left hand, rolling it back and forth slightly, still meeting Red John's eyes. Then…slowly, ever so slowly…he began to smile.

It began as a half-smile…then a full one…then a smirk…then a grin, slowly splitting his face. He began to chuckle.

Red John's eyes widened. "No," he hissed.

Laughing now, Jane looked up at the clock, saw there were five seconds left, looked back at Red John…and let go of his wedding ring, allowing it to fall to the floor.

"No!" Red John shouted.

"Goodbye," Jane said, then mockingly added, "Old Friend."

"_No_!" Red John roared.

Jane grinned and waved bye-bye at him.

And then it was midnight, and the injections began.

"No!" Red John was shouting, straining against his bonds now, as Jane walked back over and sat beside Lisbon again. "No! It cannot be! You're lying! No! No…no…"

Slowly, the lethal injections weakened him, his struggling becoming more and more feeble, his cries of 'No!' fading into whispers. He survived much longer than a normal human would have before his heart finally slowed, then stopped, but the injections were enough. The last of his breath left him, his eyes became fixed…and then, _finally_, it was over.

Doctor Mark Doe, better known as Red John, was dead.

~o~

"Mr. Jane! Mr. Jane!"

Jane was walking outside, his coat over his arm. He had picked up his wedding band and was now tossing it around as he walked, flipping it like a coin and catching it again. He stopped at Charlotte's call and turned to greet her.

"Yes, Charlotte?" he asked.

"Mr. Jane," Charlotte said, "we, uh, all just witnessed what just happened, but, um, could you please explain to us what just happened?"

"Which part?" Jane asked.

"Well, you and Red John appeared to have some sort of exchange regarding your, uh, wedding ring," Charlotte said, gesturing to the gold band he was still flipping high into the air and catching. "Would you care to explain what all that meant? Like, what was he shouting 'no' about? What did he say you were lying about?"

"Ah," Jane said, and he smiled. "Well, I was telling him…basically, that he was wrong. I'm not going to go back to the way I was before I found him."

"Meaning…?"

"Meaning I'm done letting my past hold me back," Jane told her and the world. "I'm going to let go now, let go of my family and move on. I won't _forget_ them." He paused, looking at the wedding ring he held in his hand. "I won't ever forget them." He looked up. "But I'm done mourning. It's time to let the dead rest in peace and move on with my life."

"And you've certainly earned that, Mr. Jane," Charlotte said, smiling a bit more than she should have been. "So, what's next for you?"

"Well, first, Lisbon and her team, including me, have been given a two-week paid vacation because of all this," Jane replied. "I…have some things I'd like to wrap up. After that…" He thought for a minute, then shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "I guess we'll see."

"Well, congratulations, Mr. Jane, for finally defeating the menace known as Red John," Charlotte said.

"Thank you, Charlotte," Jane said, "and thank _you_ - _all_ of you," he added, looking at the cameras, "for sharing this victory with me." He turned back to Charlotte. "And, again, a lot of credit and thanks goes to my boss, Agent Teresa Lisbon, her team, and the entire BAU - if any one of them hadn't been here, none of this would have been possible."

"Alright, well, I'll let you get to your well-earned break," Charlotte said.

"Thank you, Charlotte," Jane said, smiling at her. "It's been a good night - I hope the rest of it is as good for you as it has been so far."

"Same to you!" she said enthusiastically.

Jane smiled and nodded, then turned and started to walk away. He wasn't going to his car; he was going to walk home tonight, and…run a couple of errands on the way. Some people were going to celebrate tonight, and he would be doing so in his own way.

"Mr. Jane!"

Jane turned. On the side of the road stood all six members of the BAU, gathered together and looking at him. Jane walked over to them.

"We leave tomorrow morning," Hotch told him. "Are you coming with us?"

"Uh…" Jane blinked; he'd pretty much forgotten the BAU's offer.

"Of course, if there are things you want to do before we leave that will take longer than tonight, we can wait," Rossi added. "Strauss is willing to be patient to have you join the team."

"So Chief Stress really likes me, huh?" Jane said slowly.

The BAU chuckled, and then Morgan shrugged. "You make her want to say yes to things," he pointed out; "doing that means putting her in a good mood."

"So it does," Jane said absentmindedly. "So, uh, about joining you guys…I…"

He looked at his wedding ring, bouncing it in his palm slightly. Then he turned and searched the crowd of people who were getting ready to go home. He only had to search for a few moments before his eyes found Lisbon. She was standing by her car, watching him.

Blue eyes met green, and for a moment, all was still. Then, Lisbon nodded, ever-so-slightly, just enough for Jane to see. He got the message.

_Go with them._

She held his gaze a moment longer, then turned and got in her car.

At this, Jane felt a pain he didn't quite understand. He looked down at his wedding ring again. Angela would have wanted him to do it…but Angela was dead. It was time to let her rest in peace, and move on with his life. This choice, he would make only based on what _he_ wanted, not what his dead family would have wanted…and at last, he made it.

He looked up.

"Listen, I…I'm very flattered that you would want me," he said, "and I would love to work with you guys again, really I would. But…officially, I think I'll stay here." He smiled at the varying amounts of surprise on their faces. "I know my place," he told them. "I know where I belong, and where I belong is right here. So thank you - thank you _very_ _much_ - but I'm going to have to say no."

"But-"

"If Chief Stress gets upset about it, forward her to me, I'll make sure she's glad I turned you down," Jane said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

A few members of the BAU chuckled…and then, there was nothing more to say.

Jane put his coat over his left arm, holding his ring in his left hand, and he held out his right hand to Hotch. "Hotch," he said.

They shook hands. "Jane."

Jane shook hands with each member of the BAU in turn.

"Rossi."

"Penny."

"Morgan."

"Spencer."

"JJ."

They all nodded and said his name in reply.

"Thank you," he told all of them. "Thank you for helping to finally end this nightmare. Thank you for letting me work some cases with you, I learned a lot from you guys, and thank you very much for the offer - I'm flattered, truly I am. I hope we can work together again someday. For now…" He bowed his head slightly. "Farewell," he told them.

An assortment of "goodbye"s and "farewell"s were said in response, and then they turned to go.

Well, most of them.

Reid hesitated. Jane smiled at him.

"Tonight's your last night off," Jane called, as though speaking to all six members of the BAU, but his eyes met Reid's; "don't leave anything unfinished."

Then he walked away. Reid thought for a minute, then turned and went after his team.


	27. CM Epilogue

**Hey readers! If you're hoping for more Mentalist stuff from this point on, I'm afraid you're in the wrong place - this chapter is just to wrap up Rila and the Criminal Minds side of the story. If you want to know how things proceed for Patrick Jane and them, my next story will be back to 100% Mentalist, titled "Red Dawn Light"; it'll be about what certain people do in that two-week break I had Bertram give them.**

**Some BAU members may occasionally make a "guest star appearance", as it were, in future stories, but the official crossover is done. Likewise, Patrick Jane DOES make an appearance in this chapter (to turn down Chief Stress), but this chapter here is mainly for Rila (and not as good as the rest of the story, I readily admit that). Don't get too excited, though - I left as much as possible to the imagination. ;P**

* * *

It was _very_ late - so late, it was practically _early_ - when Spencer Reid reached Lila's house again. Several parts of him were screaming at him not to bother - she was probably asleep now anyway. But he wouldn't have another chance to see her, ever, not even if he tried to come here in the morning…and…come what may, he didn't want to leave anything unfinished before he went home, per Patrick Jane's advice.

He knocked, though he knew ringing the doorbell would be a lot more effective. Without even putting conscious effort into it, he calculated how many seconds it would be reasonable to wait for before trying again and began counting them.

Numbers. Math. Physics. Things he understood without even trying.

Lila? Not so much.

And then, to his complete surprise, the door opened. Lila was in a silk robe and looked tired, but she _had_ answered the door.

"Uh, hey, Lila," he said awkwardly.

She tilted her head. "Spencer," she said, her tone impossible for him to decipher, let alone find a response to.

He fidgeted nervously for a second, with not even the slightest idea what to say.

"You didn't call me," Lila said after a minute, still in that tone of voice that was more perplexing to him than any language that had ever been known to man.

"Yeah, I, uh," he stammered; "like I said, I-I needed to…figure something out, before I could talk to you again."

She raised an eyebrow. "And did you?" she asked.

He gave a nervous laugh, then smiled sheepishly and admitted, "Well, what I figured out was that I was thinking too much."

Lila gave a laugh in spite of herself, and an enormous burden fell off Reid's shoulders; somehow, by some miracle, he'd said the right thing. He smiled back, but was, again, unsure what more to say.

She made a vague gesture at inside her home. "I watched the, uh, execution," she said.

"Yeah," Reid said. "We, uh, we're going back to Quantico in the morning." He hesitated, then went on, "But, I, uh…wanted to…at least say goodbye, before I left - a-and that it was, great, seeing you again, even if things ultimately didn't go well…"

She gave a half-smile and nodded. "I'm glad I got to see you again, too, Spencer," she said. Her tone was different from before, but still more enigmatic than any foreign language. What did it mean?

_It means, "It's not too late for things to go well."_

The words crossed Reid's mind, though he had no idea where they came from. Or was it something he had just figured out on his own? Was he starting to understand people better, even a little?

Lila laughed. "You do think too much," she teased.

And Reid couldn't help but chuckle at himself, too. "Yeah, I-I do," he admitted.

She smiled at him.

"I can help you with that."

~o~

It was late morning when the BAU were ready to fly back to Quantico. Or, they would have been, if they had all been present to get on the jet.

"Has anyone seen Reid?" Hotch asked of his team.

Everyone shook their heads. "Not since last night," Morgan said.

Annoyed, Hotch went to Reid's room. He knocked repeatedly, but there was no answer. When he managed to get the door open anyway, it was completely empty.

For a moment, he was completely flabbergasted. Where in the world could Reid possibly be? And where did he go last time, for that matter?

A less level-headed man might have had thoughts like "He had better be in trouble, because if he's AWOL of his own free will, I will leave him behind." Hotch just took out his phone and called Reid's cell.

It rang so long before Reid picked up that by the time he did, Hotch half-feared it would go to voicemail. But it didn't.

~o~

Reid was half-roused by the sound of his cell phone ringing. He had to hunt around for it for a minute, too groggy to even register where he was, but he managed to answer.

"Yeah?"

"Reid, where the hell are you?!"

The mild curse and the angry tone sounded wrong coming from Hotch.

As soon as he registered this, Reid also noticed that daylight was shining through the glass that made up so much of the house.

"Oh gosh, what time is it?!" he asked, fully awake now.

"It's quarter-past-eleven," Hotch told him. "We were supposed to leave half an hour ago!"

Reid's eyes widened. This was bad.

"Reid, where _are_ you?"

"Uh…" He couldn't tell the truth. "…Out?" he replied lamely.

"Out _where_?"

"Uh…I…just…um…"

"Reid, tell me where you are, that's an order!" Hotch barked. It wasn't like him to express this much frustration, though really, Reid didn't blame him as he scrambled to get dressed.

Reid braced himself. "Los Angeles," he replied.

Hotch uttered a much stronger curse, shocking Reid, though he'd known it was coming. Again, though, he couldn't blame him - LA was several hours away from Sacramento.

"What are you doing-? You know what? Just get back here, _now_!"

Oh yes, Hotch was very, _very_ mad. And he had every right to be.

"I will," Reid said quickly, and he hung up. No doubt Hotch would be even madder at him for that, but at least he could put off dealing with it.

"Spencer?"

Reid turned at the groggy voice and smiled in spite of it all. "Hey," he said, leaning across the bed to kiss her quickly, almost fully dressed now.

"What's wrong?" Lila asked.

"Uh, it's a quarter-past-eleven, our jet was supposed to leave half an hour ago," Reid replied.

"Hmh?" she groaned, still waking up. "I thought you guys were in Sacramento."

"We are," Reid said gravely, dressed now.

Lila looked up at him, fully awake now, her eyes wide. "Why didn't you get up sooner?"

"What - I - why - how - why hasn't someone woken _you_ up?" Reid spluttered.

"I told you, I'm taking some time off," Lila replied.

So it was his own fault. He had an eidetic memory - how had he forgotten _that_?

He rubbed his hands over his face. "I am in _so_ much trouble," he said, standing. Then he paused, and though he didn't know what prompted him, he turned back, kissed her again, and added, "But it was worth it."

She smiled. He smiled back.

"Okay, I have to go," he said quickly, already leaving. "Bye!"

"Bye!" she called, but he was already out the door.

~o~

Reid _did_ drive back as fast as he could, then ran after he parked. Only Morgan was waiting outside for him.

"Do I want to know?" he asked.

"Uh, no," Reid said, quickly climbing on board, Morgan behind him.

Hotch glared at him, but mercifully said nothing.

An hour later, they were flying home, as they had so many times after taking another serial killer off the streets. Reid was sitting apart from everyone else, determinedly looking out the window.

Normally, at least some of them were conversing about something. Today, though, there was silence. It weighed down on them, making them think of things other than Reid's vanishing act. After all, Red John _had_ been _far_ unlike any other serial killer they had taken down; they would always carry scars from the ordeal, even though he hadn't really done much to them directly.

Of course, Reid's disappearance _was_ the elephant in the room, and at last, Hotch spoke.

"Reid?"

Reid turned his head. "Hm?"

"Where were you?" Hotch asked.

Reid blushed. "I…uh…don't want to talk about it," he mumbled, turning to look back out the window.

Even Hotch blinked. Still, he pressed, "What were you doing in LA?"

"LA?" Garcia repeated. "Isn't that where…?"

And suddenly, there was the sound of Morgan chuckling. Everyone turned to him.

"Our little boy's growing up," he said in answer to the questioning faces.

For a moment, silence. Then it clicked, and Rossi, JJ, and Garcia joined Morgan in laughter, which raised now between the four of them. Hotch managed not to laugh, but only because he was rubbing his hand over his face.

Reid kept his eyes fixed on the window as the laughter grew, though his face got hotter and hotter.

"Hey, Reid! I guess I can't call you 'kid' anymore," Morgan teased.

"Shut up," Reid mumbled.

The laugher only grew; even Hotch was starting to smile now, if against his will.

Normally, Reid would have put up with their laughter - what could he do, after all? But today, a comeback came to him.

"So who wants to be the one to tell Straus that Patrick Jane isn't coming back with us?" he asked abruptly, turning to the others.

It was as though he had flipped a switch; the laughter stopped, the smiles faded. It had been a bit of a gamble to ask - someone could very well have told Strauss while Reid was in LA - but apparently, no one had.

For a minute, there was silence.

"We should probably all do it together," Hotch said at last. "Now, rather than later."

"Get it over with," Morgan agreed.

Hotch dialed. "Remember, Jane told us to forward the call to him if she gets too difficult," he said as the phone rang.

"When is she _not_ difficult?" JJ commented.

"When Patrick Jane's talking to her," Morgan pointed out.

"Hello?" came the voice over the phone; it was on speaker.

"Ma'am, it's Agent Aaron Hotchner," Hotch said. "We had a bit of an…unexpected delay, but we're on our way back now."

"Good," Strauss said in a dangerously pleased tone. "I presume Agent Jane is with you?"

There was a pause.

"Ma'am…" Hotch said hesitantly. "Patrick Jane…chose not to join us."

"What do you mean?" Strauss demanded.

"He turned down our invitation to join the BAU," Hotch replied. "He's going to be staying with his team in the California Bureau of Investigation."

"Agent Hotchner, this is unacceptable," Strauss snapped. "He doesn't have a choice in the matter; I'll see to it that the paperwork is filled out regardless."

The BAU looked at each other.

"Ma'am…we don't have that authority," Hotch said slowly, "and neither do you. If you would rather discuss the matter with him directly, I can put you on the phone with him right now."

"I thought you said he wasn't with you."

"He's not, but he invited us to call him," Hotch said.

"Very well," Strauss said in a clipped tone.

Two minutes later, the phone line was trying to reach Patrick Jane.

"Hey, guys," Jane said as he picked up. "How'd it go with Chief Stress?"

The BAU glanced at each other, their eyes wide. Why would he risk saying something like that when he knew full well that it might be Strauss herself on the other end of the line?

"Agent Jane, this is Chief Strauss, we've spoken before," Strauss began.

"Yeah, yeah," Jane said dismissively. "Oh, and it's not 'Agent', I'm not a cop - I'm just a consultant."

"I…" Strauss was surprised. "I thought you said you were part of the California Bureau of Investigation…?"

"I am, sort of," Jane said; "I consult for a CBI team. But I'm not an agent, nor am I technically a cop of any kind."

"Well…in any case…I'm told you wish not to join the BAU?" Strauss managed, getting stern again.

"Listen," Jane said, "the BAU are an amazing team, and I would be honored to join it, but the fact is, I know my place, and my place is right here. Also, while we're on the subject, you shouldn't be so hard on them - like me, they don't want to go anywhere or usurp your power in any way. Hotch, especially, would _never_ want to take your job. Stop being so paranoid."

"I don't…You…I…Wh…?"

The BAU had to struggle not to laugh audibly; keeping straight faces was out of the question.

"They really are the best at what they do," Jane went on. "And they're _psychoanalysts_, for crying out loud! They take political correctness into account when they do their job - they can't not! You don't have to hang public relations over their heads - that's JJ's job."

JJ only barely managed to suppress an enormous guffaw.

"Trust me, you're glad I turned you down," Jane told Strauss. "Thanks again for letting them help, though, I genuinely appreciate it. Bye."

"Mr. Jane-!"

But Jane had already hung up.

The BAU waited for whatever Strauss was going to say, hoping it wouldn't be too harsh. Apparently, however, Jane had worked his magic again, and after a few seconds of awkward silence, Strauss simply hung up.

Everyone finally burst out laughing. Patrick Jane had a way with words none of them could really grasp - anything that could render Strauss speechless was very impressive.

But the laughter died quickly, as everyone realized just how much they would miss Patrick Jane. They looked at each other, seeing the same expression reflected on each other's faces.

"You know…no one else in the world has ever called me 'Penny'," Garcia said at last.

Morgan nodded. "He was something else, that's for sure," he said.

"I still don't get why he didn't come with us," JJ said.

Rossi chuckled.

Everyone looked at him. "You know something?" Hotch asked him.

"I may not see everything, but I see enough," Rossi said cryptically.

"Okay, _really_ not in the mood for riddles right now," JJ said.

"We just ended a guy who did nothing but talk in riddles," Morgan agreed. "Almost gave me a headache."

But Rossi smiled. "Agent Lisbon may have wanted Patrick Jane to join us, but…he wants something else." He shrugged. "He wants his life back; and after everything he's been through, I feel like he's earned that."

Most people were still confused. But Hotch nodded and said, "I hope things go well for them, then."

"Them?" Reid asked.

Hotch said nothing, but he gave one of his rare half-smiles.

And that was all.


End file.
